In Enemy Hands
by Cassandra Elise
Summary: Tara Visits Germany. Steed Speaks American. Emma Remains English. Cathy Fancies Africa. The FINALE is Here! Updated 4/24/03 I *was* going to wait a week to update, but I couldn't keep you in suspense any longer. Thanks for the Reviews
1. First Day

NOTE: This is a fourth in my series of Avengers stories that I've written. If you are a new Avengers fan and haven't read any of my other stories, I suggest you read them first, for this story will be a spoiler. So read The Avengers: Mother Knows Best, followed by Inferno Island and Waiting for a Killer. Then In Enemy Hands will make more sense. Thank you, and enjoy!  
  
ANOTHER NOTE: I do not own ANY of these characters except Baxley and Evian. This is a crossover with a crossover. I feature characters from James Bond and Get Smart, a 60's sitcom. If you haven't ever seen Get Smart, don't worry; I explain who the characters are as the story goes on.   
  
YET ANOTHER NOTE: Conrad von Siegfried and Starker are two men who appeared in Get Smart. They are Germans who speak with exaggerated accents. I know that most Germans do not speak such poor English. I can say this with utmost certainty, since Verena Gruen is a German and she has excellent English skills. I don't know how she talks, but I'm sure she's much better than the characters in my story. And now with all that off my back, I present to you . . .  
  
The AVENGERS   
  
A sandy brown haired man with a foreboding scar on his face and a deprecating gaze in his eyes motioned for his brainless minions to be seated. The man was standing authoritatively on a podium, ready to make an important speech. His men were busily speaking in their native tongue, German. They seemed to be discussing the inclement weather that they were suffering in Germany at the moment, a subject trained assassins did not usually engage themselves in.  
  
The threatening man on the platform cleared his throat several times before he declared in a guttural voice, "Men, one of you vill shteal the secret dossier concerning Great Britain's new defense veapon. John and Emma Shteed are keeping zis document at zeir flat until it can be given to Parliament tomorrow at two o'clock to approve of. However, due to security reasons, zey may give the portfolio to one of zeir friends, Tara King and Mrs. Cazerine Gale. If you cannot find the dossier at Shteed's flat, you MUST visit the other apartments to get ze documents. If zese agents get in ze vay, kill zem immediately!   
  
"Ze addresses to Shteed and friend's flats are vritten on ze bulletin board over zere." The man pointed in the right direction. "Whoever copies the addresses first vill get the assignment. Do you all undershtand?"  
  
After several nods of the heads or acclamations of assurance, the minions began scribbling on scraps of paper that had been provided for them. One particular goon by the name of Starker, eager to please the boss, quickly copied the addresses onto his paper. Though short on intelligence, Starker was a giant in proportion with brawny shoulders and triceps. He worshipped his leader, Conrad von Siegfried, and was quite unaware that the Conrad's feelings were far from mutual.  
  
Starker slowly rose to his large feet and advanced toward the podium. "Siegfried, I have finished my vork!" he crowed triumphantly, showing off the paper with the addresses sprawled across it like he was a child presenting his artwork to his parents.  
  
Siegfried resisted the impulse to roll his eyes at the proud Starker. Of all the stupid men in the ministry, why did Starker have to finish first? "Very vell, you vill leave on the five p.m. plane to London, England vith me."  
  
"Vy are you going, O Mighty Siegfried?"  
  
"I'm going to make sure you do not mess up ze assignment!" Conrad barked in aggravation, as if it was completely obvious why he would accompany one of his men. He announced to the rest of the assemblage, "Gentlemen, Herr Gunter is in control of our organisation until my return, undershtood?" With that remark the two Germans exited the building, ready to wreak havoc in Great Britain.  
In Enemy Hands  
  
Tara Visits Germany  
Steed Speaks American  
  
Emma Remains English   
Cathy Fancies Africa  
  
First Day  
  
Grousing and arguing, Herr Starker and Conrad von Siegfried shortly arrived in gloomy London. The weather did nothing to lighten their downcast spirits, but then, nothing seemed to put Siegfried in a jolly mood unless he was succeeding in conquering the world. Of course, his joviality was always short-lived due to the fact that he had never accomplished taking over the world. Some noble secret agent eventually stopped his crazed plans.   
  
"Now, Shtarker," Conrad began complacently as they treaded down the sidewalk, "I vill be at our abandoned English headquarters, vaiting for you to finish ze job. If you botch up zis shcheme, I vill have to come to your rescue, and then I vill kill you." He said it in such a nonchalant tone that Mr. Starker almost didn't comprehend what his superior was telling him.   
  
Once he realised the magnitude of this proclamation, Starker trembled with fright. "I vill do my best, Siegried, but-"  
  
"Zere is no room for feeble excuses, Shtarker!" shouted the imperious German. With this last remark, Conrad von Siegfried hopped into a taxicab and ordered the driver to take him to their headquarters.  
  
The bumbling idiot named Starker glanced nervously at the addresses he had written down, 9 Primrose Crescent and 3 Stable Mews. He also had an address that led to the apartment of Mrs. Gale, formally Mrs. Peel's flat. One of the two afore mentioned addresses belonged to John Steed, while the other to Tara King. He had inverted the names and numbers though, and now he didn't remember which flat belonged to whom.   
  
The man recalled his boss's hostile threat before gulping at the prospect of being gunned down or stabbed in the back, or-he shuddered at the gruesome thoughts. Sometimes he wondered if it was worth working for the enemy agency. Still not certain which flat was John Steed 's, he randomly pointed to one of the addresses. Sighing deeply, he turned his footsteps in the direction of 9 Primrose Crescent.  
  
**********  
  
Miss Tara King, agent 69, was seated at her pink clothed table, busily writing a letter to her former boss. She finished the last sentence, sighed in satisfaction, and read the letter out loud, which went as follows:  
  
Dear Mother,  
  
We're are all having a splendid time at our new ministry, but I must admit our chief and fellow spies don't act quite as intimate with each other. Furthermore, this agency has so many strange gizmos and secret weapons, I can hardly keep count! I know how much you despise such high-tech equipment.   
Anyway, Steed, Mrs. Peel, and I just finished a course on the "Non-violent Way to Subdue Your Enemies." Steed and I knew most of the approaches, which included driving your enemies insane, talking them out of whatever their doing, or tickling them until they relent. However, Emma was not acquainted with those techniques. She always was one to punch, kick, and chop her way out of things. Nevertheless, we each learned some valuable lessons that hopefully we can put to good use in the future. Cathy is preparing to move to Africa with her fiancé, Dr. Martin King, so she was not able to attend the meetings.  
I hope you write a reply very soon.   
  
Sincerely,  
Agent Tara King  
As she was finishing the note, Herr Starker slipped into her room via the bottom entrance. He took one look at the pink carpet, purple paneling, floral furniture, and many miscellaneous artworks, and realised with chagrin that he was in the wrong apartment. He turned to make his leave but caught his feet on a bright blue pedestal where an equally as blue vase was perched.  
  
At the noise, Tara whirled around in her chair, her brunette ear length wig brushing her cheeks. She spotted the astounded Starker and serenely rose to her feet. "What are you doing here?" she asked, the inflection in her voice steady and commanding.  
  
"Vell, it appears I have the vrong flat, so I vill just be moving along," Starker tried to inch out the door, but the woman cornered him.  
  
Miss King shut the back door, locking it with an ominous click! "Now why don't you tell me your name and what business brings you to Great Britain?"  
  
"How did you know I vas a foreigner?" Mr. Starker cried in obvious incredulity.  
  
"Your thick German accent gave you away," was the only reply. Tara King placed her hands on her tight, purple pants made out of denim. Her sweater, which was two sizes too small for her voluptuous chest, was a darker shade of purple than her slacks.  
  
Herr Starker resisted the impulse to ogle her as he returned, "I told you I vent to ze wrong flat! I von't tell you any more zan zat!"  
  
"If you won't talk now, perhaps you will be more agreeable once you are seated in the ministry's office!"  
  
The strange alien fell down onto his knees, hands folded as if ready for prayer. "I beg of you, do not take me zere! It is a degradation to be taken to ze enemy's headquarters."  
  
"So you admit that you are the opposition," Tara said. "Now I have something I can tell my chief when he asks about you."  
  
"Have some compassion, lady. I don't vant to go zere!"  
  
"Do you think I'd just let you go free?" Miss Tara scoffed.  
  
"If you let me go Siegfried vill find out zat I failed ze mission, and I vill be killed!"  
  
"Either way you end up losing, so you might as well make no complaints and come with me." Tara stifled a smile as she stared coldly at the intruder. She always had a certain amount of satisfaction when she was in control of the situation. Too often she was drugged or rendered unconscious some other way before she ever had a chance to show the villains her fighting techniques.  
  
"Vy don't you just dispatch of me now, so I von't have to face Conrad von Siegfried's uncontrollable wrath?" Starker suggested optimistically.  
  
"You're boss is THE Conrad von Siegfried, international diabolical mastermind, the man who has escaped from every penitentiary he was ever sent to?" Tara King gaped at the burly figure before her, fear striking into her heart for the first time.   
  
There wasn't one agency that hadn't heard of Siegfried's seemingly unstoppable ways. It appeared his one purpose in life was to create chaos, and he did it so effectively, criminals everywhere either secretly or openly admired him. Far too often Siegfried tried to take over the world with one of his depraved, yet at the same time, ingenious plans only to fall short when a lawful agent stopped him.  
  
Thus the reason why Tara King felt for a brief moment a feeling of utmost dread. The emotion quickly subsided as she gazed into the ignorant eyes of her adversary. Once again she was her unflappable self, much to the disappointment of Starker, who had thought he had the advantage.  
  
"I'm sorry, Mr. German, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you o my workplace. Let me get my coat, and then will head over there." Swinging her hips sexily, Tara composedly wandered over to her brown leather chair by her white-bricked fireplace.  
  
Starker was too intent watching her walk to think of escaping. Miss King took this opportune time to "accidentally" knock her jacket off the coffee table near the hearth. "Do be a dear and pick that up for me," she cooed sweetly to the clearly smitten German.   
  
As Herr Starker was bent over her coat, Tara grabbed a coloured bust of a man off of her mantel. Without any hesitation, she brought the piece down on the stranger's head. With an audible groan, the bulky German slumped to the floor out cold.   
  
Tara gazed at the shattered pieces of her statue as she remarked, "You really are going to pay for this, whoever you are. I do so adore my busts."  
  
It took some effort to drag the heavy Starker out to her car, but finally Tara King managed. Swiftly she drove to her ministry's headquarters, hoping her nemesis did not revive on the journey. After what seemed interminable minutes, Miss King arrived at her destination. She stepped inside for a few minutes to tell any bystanders that she needed assistance in dragging somebody inside, and then she and two men ventured outside. In no time the three agents had carried the still inert body of Starker into their chief's office. The two men spies bid their adieus to the grateful Tara King.  
  
Their boss, a man known by the name H, was yelling into the phone. "I don't care what Bond is doing right now! You tell him to get down here this instant, or he is going to be discharged!" H hung up the phone in disgust and turned to Tara. "Is there anything I can do for you, Miss King?"  
  
"I found this man sneaking into my flat, who claims he works for Conrad von Siegfried."  
  
"Great Scot, we, with the help of America, have been trying to track Siegfried for months!" H peered down at the man before declaring, "This is undoubtedly Herr Starker, Siegfried's right-hand man!"   
  
"I think it's time for Conrad to find a new goon," Tara announced dryly. "He is as slow, big, and ugly as an ox."  
  
Her employer agreed before he informed her, "No one calls von Siegfried by his first name, except his wife."  
  
"I'm surprised such an evil and busy man as Siegfried found time to get married."  
  
"Nobody quite understands that part about Siegfried, probably not even himself." H pressed a button on his intercom as he said, "I'll have one of my men interrogate him immediately."  
  
"Would you mind if I went with him?" Tara inquired. "He's taken a fancy to me and he may not cooperate unless I'm present."  
  
"You think he'll like you even after you've knocked him unconscious?"  
  
"With a brain like Starker's, anything is possible."  
  
************  
  
John Wickham Gascoyne Beresford Steed drove down the road in his green 1929 Bentley at a frightening speed. White with tension, his hands gripped the steering wheel, while his mouth formed a grim line across his face. Mr. Steed pulled into his usual spot outside his apartment complex, hopped out, and entered the building. He dashed into his flat, panting and demanding, "What's the matter, Mrs. Peel? Why did you call me from my old RAF friend's house?"  
  
Mrs. Emma Steed, nicknamed Mrs. Peel by her husband, lifted a slender finger to her lips. "Be quiet, or you'll disturb Katie." She used the same finger to point at the small child that was crawling across the wood floor. "She learned to crawl today," she gushed tearfully.  
  
"She's only four months old and she's crawling?" Steed asked in incredulity.  
  
Emma tried not to give her ignorant husband a withering look. "Four or five months is the normal time babies start crawling." She swooped down on the child, who had a purple bow in her mass of dark hair. "Mummy and Daddy are proud of their baby," Emma Steed informed her daughter in a saccharine voice.  
  
"What I don't understand is why Katie can't just start walking," Steed complained. He tossed his grey wool overcoat onto his red leather chair.  
  
"Did you learn anything at those parenting classes we took?" Emma asked.  
  
"I learned that babies take a long time to grow."  
  
"When Katie is in her teens, you won't think the same," Mrs. Peel warned her husband. "I guess nothing can turn you into a good father."  
  
Steed found it in his best interest to ignore that comment. "I hope this little farewell party we're throwing today for Mrs. Gale and Dr. King isn't putting too much pressure on you." Steed gingerly strolled over to Katie and lovingly picked her up. "I know taking care of this little bundle can be quite strenuous."  
  
"Ah yes, you can just relate, can't you?" Emma Steed gently took the baby from her adoring husband. Whether he was admiring her or Katie was an enigma. "It's funny, but I don't recall you ever getting up in the middle of the night to feed Katie, or change her diapers, or-"  
  
"Isn't it amazing how well we agree on subjects?" John interrupted.  
  
"I can scarcely believe it myself," Emma murmured sarcastically.  
  
John Steed glanced at his watch and exclaimed. "I'll call Tara in an hour's time to remind her of the party! She's been ever so flighty lately, almost as if she wasn't content with being a spy."  
  
"Would you be satisfied if you couldn't have the one you loved?" Mrs. Peel asked, referring to the fact that Tara King was still getting over Steed.   
  
John sunk into a meditative silence, but it was short-lived. Quickly he entered his cramped kitchen and opened the icebox. "This is just the worst of luck!"  
  
Mrs. Steed hurried into the kitchen to see what her husband was becoming so animate about. She bounced Katherine on her left hip, not minding the crease she was making in her black hipster pants. "What seems to be the problem, Steed?" Katie gurgled before spitting on Emma's black, tight turtleneck.  
  
"I was going to bring the four remaining bottles of blanc de blancs from the north of De Grand Cru to the party, but it turns out I only have two bottles left! How could I have miscounted?"  
  
"Don't you remember you had one bottle when Katie was first born and finished off the second bottle when Katie was a month old?" Emma dabbed in the drool off her shoulder in semi-disgust.   
  
"We'll just have to buy two more bottles of bubbly before the party tonight." Steed started roaming around the flat in search of his misplaced coat. He finally discovered it draped across the chair.   
  
"This may seem like a trivial point to you, but we purchased that champagne in Paris, France." Still managing to balance the baby on her hip, Emma deftly closed the icebox door that her husband had carelessly left ajar.  
  
"That is a minor detail since I happen to know a wine shop that specialises in French liquor, particularly wine from De Grand Cru vineyard."  
  
"Aah!" Mrs. Steed exclaimed in understanding. "I'll just change my clothes and we'll set off." She pointed to the spit stain on her shirt before climbing the winding staircase to the bedroom.  
  
Steed willingly took Katie so his wife could dress in more suitable apparel. Mrs. Steed soon appeared, attired in a white silk blouse covered by a linen oatmeal coloured jacket with two frogs on the left side, and linen slacks of the same colour as the coat. White boots with heels finished the outfit, accentuating Emma's five foot eight and a half inch frame.  
  
The couple exchanged one of their famous mutual glances before quitting the room. Katherine Steed giggled happily at her two loving parents, as if she, too, could comprehend their gaze.  
  
***********  
  
Tara King tapped her manicured fingernails on the table in front of her. It seemed she and two scientists had been waiting for Herr Starker to revive indefinitely. Finally the three agents spotted movement from the brawny fellow. After letting him revive, the trio began the serious interrogation.  
  
"Whom do you work for?" asked the first agent named Baxley.  
  
"I am not going to tell you zat," Starker bravely, if not stupidly, replied.  
  
"Maybe you will be more agreeable when we give you the truth serum," threatened the second spy and one of the agency's scientists, Dr. Evian.  
  
"I vork for Conrad von Siegfried, KAOS agent and lifelong enemy of Maxvell Shmart."  
  
"I'm glad you decided to be cooperative," Tara quipped. "Why were you at my flat-you don't have to tell me it was a mistake; I already know that."  
  
"I vas sent to shteal important documents about . . . I don't remember zat far back. You must have hit me very hard, Fraulein King."  
  
"So do you anything else about your assignment other than your stealing something?" Mr. Baxley enquired.   
  
"If I said yes would you let me go?" Starker asked hopefully.  
  
"No!" the three agents cried in unison.  
  
"I am totally clueless about everyzing else."  
  
"This interrogation is obviously futile, so I'll just return to my flat." Tara King arched her back and yawned as she added, "The first thing I do when I get home is to take a long bubble bath."  
  
Mr. Starker's head snapped back at the last sentence, his mind thinking only lustful ideas. The Dr. Evian and Mr. Baxley both rolled their eyes at the enemy agent's lewd behaviour. Once Miss King was out of sight, Dr. Evian questioned, "Are you certain that's all you know?"  
  
"Vell, I did have a slip of paper vith some addresses on zem in my pocket." Mr. Starker rummaged through his pockets in search of the vital piece of paper. After a thorough search conducted by the scientists, the trio shook their heads in dismay. "I don't know vere it could have gone!" Starker wailed.  
  
"Could you have lost it at Miss King's apartment?" Baxley demanded.  
  
"Zat is a very likely possibility," admitted the bumbling German.  
  
"We'll take you over there, so you can look for that important clue! This may be the only lead we have on what exactly Mr. Siegfried wants from us!" Evian grabbed onto Starker's arm, motioning for his friend to grab the other limb.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: In case you're waiting for updates on Last Resort, I have some bad news for you. I'm suffering from an extreme case of writer's block in that story. I'm sorry, and I'll try to write more soon. Please be patient. :( 


	2. First Afternoon

First Afternoon  
  
Tara King wrapped her blue kimono with the multicoloured flowers on it tightly around her. She hurriedly tied a yellow sash across her waist before exiting her room. In her washroom, her bathwater beckoned her, but unfortunately, Tara had just heard a knock at her door. She impatiently climbed the wooden stairs to her main entrance.   
  
When she opened the door, she gave an exasperated groan. "What do you want?" she demanded tersely of Herr Starker, Mr. Baxley and Dr. Evian.  
  
"Mr. Starker believes he left a valuable clue at your flat, so he's come to investigate," Baxley explained.  
  
"We have work to do back at ministry headquarters, so we'll just leave him with you," added Dr. Evian. The two men eagerly sauntered down the hallway out of sight.  
  
Starker smiled gleefully at the prospect of being alone with the buxom and beautiful Miss King. He edged his way into the apartment, his eyes never leaving the peeved Tara. He was so intent on gazing at her that he didn't notice the opening in the stair railing where her gold fire pole was located. He stepped right through the open space, but fortunately he grabbed onto the pole.  
  
Tara rolled her eyes as she climbed down the stairs. "Where do you think you left this clue?" As she marched over to Starker, he stooped down to examine the carpet for the paper. As a result, Tara tripped over him and sprawled across the carpet. She quickly rose to her feet, in fear that her robe had been misplaced when she had fallen. "Would kindly watch where you're going, Mr. Starker?"  
  
Starker ignored her comment, for he had found the leaf of paper. "Ve are in good fortune today, Tara!"   
  
The two briefly examined the note's contents, and then Tara cried, "So you were sent to steal the dossiers about the defense weapon, but somehow you ended up here instead at Steed's flat."  
  
"So now all we have to do is take ze papers from the correct apartment!" Starker proclaimed, obviously pleased with his perceptive thinking. The scornful look on Tara's face was enough to dissuade him.  
  
"Now that we know Siegfried's diabolical plans, we will be able to stop him in his tracks. You have served your purpose and will have to return to ministry headquarters."  
  
"No, I von't be thrown in jail!"   
  
"We can't very well release you after all the heinous crimes you have committed working for KAOS."  
  
"But I don't vant to spend a lonely life in prison with no voman of my own coming to visit me every veek!"  
  
"If you help me catch Siegfried, perhaps your sentence will be lighter," Tara suggested optimistically. "Now where do you suppose he is hiding at this moment?"  
  
"He said he would be at our London headquarters, but I don't recall vere zat is. I haven't been in England for seven years!"  
  
Tara was about to strangle the incompetent agent, but an idea formed in her head that checked her just in time. "If you don't report to the hideout with the papers, Siegfried will most likely assume that you have failed the mission and will fetch the papers himself. "  
  
"And zen when he finds me, he vill murder me!"  
  
"We'll stop him before he does anything that despicable." Tara wandered over to her phone, yelling over her shoulder "I'm calling Steed to warn him of the impending danger and to be on his guard."  
  
Tara King waited impatiently as the Steeds' phone continually rang. Finally Steed's voice broke through the incessant ringing with the phrase, "Hello, John Steed here; this is a pre-recorded message. I'm probably out buying some champagne or working at my job-"   
  
Tara hung up the phone in frustration and, turning to face Starker, said, "We'll just have to go over to Mr. and Mrs. Steed's flat and wait for Siegfried ourselves."  
  
"But I soon as he sees me, Siegfried vill shoot me, or slice my troat, or strangle me, or beat me over ze head, or -"   
  
"I promise you that you will not be murdered in cold blood in Steed's apartment," Miss King solemnly vowed. "Steed would throw a fit if any blood stained his wood floors! I'll just change into some clothes, and then we'll head over to the Steeds' home."  
  
Starker drooled at the mere prospect, but Tara had good enough sense to lock her bedroom door as she got dressed. After Tara was attired in a red tartan outfit and had drained the bathtub, the two spies set out for 3 Stable Mews.  
  
***********  
  
Tara King held her breath as she and Starker entered John Steed's flat. After seeing that Steed or Emma were not injured or lying dead in any room, Tara and Starker began looking for the portfolio. "I'll tackle the upstairs bedroom, while you search down here," Tara whispered, as if her loud voice would beckon Siegfried to enter the room.  
  
"I JUST ZOUGHT OF SOMEZING!" shrieked Mr. Starker. Upon receiving a hoarse shush from Miss King, he spoke in an almost inaudible voice, "Vat if Mrs. and Mr. Shteed veren't here, but Siegfried vas and already shtole ze documents?"  
  
"Then we've got to thoroughly ransack this place in order to make sure he didn't take it." Miss Tara bounded up the stairs, relieved to be away from the totally annoying and stupid goon.   
  
Contrary to popular belief, she had never been in Steed's bedroom before. It was almost sacrilegious to enter the domain after being so reverent of her first adult love's feelings. She stood in awe of the enter setup, gazing at the Japanese folding screen that separated the queen-sized bed from the baby's cradle, the two cherry wood bureaus that took up the remainder of the miniscule space, and the feline wardrobe of Mrs. Emma Steed that was strewn across the furniture. Emma had evidently taken a long time to choose the right apparel and had never found the time to return the rejected clothes to their proper spots.  
  
Tara gazed at her own outfit; a white, long-sleeved blouse with lace cuffs, a tartan vest and matching pleated skirt. The attire was not repulsive or revealing in the wrong areas, but it lacked any refinement and sexiness that was a common quality in the Emmapeelers of Mrs. Steed. It was no wonder John Steed had fallen head over heels in love with Emma and not with her.  
  
Miss King shook herself from her depressing reverie in order to start the grueling task of sleuthing. After completely picking apart the bedroom to no avail, Tara headed downstairs dejectedly. "Did you find anything of importance, Starker?"  
  
Mr. Starker entered the room, chewing on a slice of spiral cut ham. "No, unless you consider zis food important."  
  
"Starker," Tara cried in irritation, "that ham is for tonight's party!" She yanked the remaining piece of meat out of the morose agent's mouth.   
  
"I'm sorry, Tara, but I vas so incredibly hungry, and ze food in zat fridge vas too good to pass up."  
  
"Just tell me how much you ate," Tara sighed.  
  
"Vell, including that food you're holding, I've eaten five zings: two deviled eggs, a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie, and two pieces of ham."  
  
"Have you searched anywhere down here yet, or were you too busy stuffing your face?" Shaking her head, Miss King raised her hands in repulsion. "Never mind, I don't want to know the answer!" She stalked over to the little dining area that was outside the kitchen and near the stairs leading up to the bedroom.   
  
Trying to ease her agitated mind, she gazed out the window on the back door. To her consternation, Tara spotted a tall man in a leather jacket marching determinedly down the sidewalk. As he drew nearer, she spotted the infamous KAOS logo embroidered on his apparel. Assuming that this must be Siegfried, she called, "Starker, your boss is outside staring at the apartment complex!"  
  
There was no answer, and for a moment, Tara feared the cowardly man had fainted. Then, he let out an ear-piercing scream, followed by the words, "He's come to kill me, and I haven't even helped you! I'm going to die a disgraceful death! You're going to spit on my corpse in disgust, say terrible zings about me-"  
  
"He doesn't need to know that you don't have the dossiers," Miss King gently interrupted him. "Go to the kitchen window and tell him that you have everything and you'll be down in a minute."  
  
"Zen when I go downstairs vith nozing in my hands, he'll kill me."  
  
"Just do what I say and let me worry about the next part of the plan." Tara bit the end of her fingernail, deep in meditation.  
  
Starker lumbered into the kitchen, his arms sagging at his sides. Tentatively, he opened the window and shouted, "Siegfried, I've got ze documents, so you don't need to come up!" When Siegfried didn't respond, Starker shut the window. Starker watched his superior stalk silently into the apartment building. "I don't zink he believed a word."  
  
"What makes you say that?" Miss Tara wandered into the kitchen to peer over the tall agent's shoulder.  
  
"I don't know, but maybe it's because he just entered ze building."   
  
For one interminable second, nobody dare breathed, but the moment finally passed. "I've got a plan that has to work!" Tara announced. "We'll be waiting for him inside, hiding somewhere. When Siegfried enters the flat, we'll tackle him to the floor and knock him out."  
  
"Very good, except for one important zing: Siegfried always carries a gun vith him. As soon as we step out of our hiding place, he'll shoot us down. DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO!" Shaping his hand in the form of a gun, Starker mimicked a machine gun quite effectively.  
  
"All right, I have another idea, but we have to act quickly."   
  
Before Tara could continue, Starker interrupted her with, "I love zat idea, but I have von question. Vat vas your plan again?"  
  
Tara King gritted her teeth as she retorted, "I will be hiding behind a corner in the hallway outside. When Siegfried comes around that corner, I will tackle him to the ground, throwing in front of Steed's door. When you hear a falling noise or someone saying, 'oomph,' open the door and quickly shut it again. The quick movement will knock your boss on the head, rendering him unconscious."  
  
"Zat is one of the most brilliant ideas I have ever heard, and I have heard many good plans before." Herr Starker clapped his hands together gleefully at the thought of hitting his fearsome boss on the head.  
  
Tara didn't wait to give her thanks, but slipped into the hallway. She crept up to the nearest corner and peered around it to see if Siegfried was anywhere in the vicinity. Just at that moment, the domineering KAOS agent strode into view, his sky blue eyes aglow with a look of absolute malice.  
  
Tara King's knees buckled as she stared at him, and she almost forgot to step out of view. She took a deep breath, toyed with the white lace kerchief that was pinned to her shirt collar, and spread her feet apart in a fight position. She was so intent on her work, she didn't notice the German staring pettishly at her until she felt his breath on her neck. "Oh, hello; are you looking for something?"  
  
"Just keep moving, girly, and you von't get hurt," snarled Conrad. He produced an automatic pistol from his shiny, black leather jacket. He had no qualms about pointing the gun at Tara's ample chest.  
  
Miss King couldn't believe her stupidity in this whole situation. Siegfried should have been on the ground already, not threatening her with a pistol! Slowly, she walked to the flat, but when she reached the door, she hesitated.   
  
"Vell, vat are you vaiting for, you coward? Are you afraid ze boogie man vill get you?" Conrad sneered satirically. He put his hand on the doorknob, his eyes-and gun-never leaving Tara King.  
  
"No," Miss King began humbly, "I'm afraid the boogie man is going to get you!" With that childish but intimidating comment, Tara bellowed, "Oomph!" Evading his automatic weapon, she pushed Conrad von Siegfried into the front door.  
  
At that moment, Starker opened and then abruptly shut the door. Before Siegfried could comprehend what was happening, he was knocked on the head. He slumped to the floor as slowly as sap oozing out of a tree. Tara King daintily retrieved the gun from the ground before dragging Siegfried into the flat with the help of Mr. Starker. They quickly untied the cords that held Steed's yellow curtains in place and bound Siegfried with them.  
  
Once this mission was accomplished, Miss King stepped over to Steed's desk where his phone was perched. She meant to call her ministry to tell Q that she had captured Siegfried, but at that moment, the telephone rang. Tara impatiently picked it up and enquired, "Who may I say is calling?"   
  
"This is the landlord, and I heard a lot of commotion coming from apartment three! Who are you and what are you doing in Mr. John Steed's flat?"  
  
Tara cringed at the accusatory remarks but remained serene as she replied, "I'm one of his friends, and there is nothing out of the ordinary going on up here. Let me go downstairs to explain everything to you." She hurriedly hung up the phone before the landlord could make any more protests. "Starker, I have to settle some nasty business downstairs, but I promise to be back shortly." She moved swiftly to the front door as she warned, "If Siegfried regains consciousness before I return, make sure he doesn't escape, all right, Starker?"  
  
"You can depend on me, my darling Tara." Starker ran over to her, his eyes imploring her to kiss or hug him, but Tara merely handed him Conrad's gun.   
  
"If he gives you any trouble, threaten him with the pistol. Don't shoot him, because we need him for questioning."  
  
"Goodie, for vonce I vill be ze one threatening someone." Mr. Starker gloated as Miss King made her exit. He sighed with contentment before sitting down on the red leather couch. The only thing he needed to do now was wait for something, anything to occur. It was not long before his impetuous wish was granted, for Conrad von Siegfried shortly revived.  
  
Siegfried gazed wearily at his surroundings and tried to sit upright, but he found himself bound together. Glaring at the massive simpleton before him, he demanded, "Vat do you mean by tying me up? Release me zis very minute, Shtarker, or you vill regret it!"  
  
"Nope, Siggy, I'm being mean and rotten to you . . . and loving it! I have joined the good agents, and nozing you can say or do will dissuade me!" Starker whipped the automatic gun around flippantly, not realising the danger and destruction it could cause if he accidentally set it off.  
  
"Shtarker, I entreat you from the bottom of my heart-"  
  
"You have no heart; you never did and you never vill!" screeched the indignant thug. "You vere coming here to kill me, veren't you? If it veren't for the kindness and incredible brains of Miss King, I vould be dead!"  
  
"If Tara King has any intelligence zan I'm a monkey's uncle! Starker, just release me, and I'll see zat no harm befalls you! I'm not so sure your friend vill offer the same." Siegfried squirmed uncomfortably against his bondage. As he wriggled to the left, his hand brushed the edge of the curtain's sash that was holding him in place. He began prying at the edge of the cord, loosening its grasp inch by inch. Since Conrad was lying on his hands, Starker could not see him working on the ropes.  
  
"Do not say such despicable zings about my girl," protested Herr Starker.  
  
"She vould fall for a vorthless lout like you." Conrad von Siegfried had almost pried his hand out of the rope by this time, but his companion was still oblivious to it all.  
  
"If I hadn't given my pledge to Miss King not to shoot you, I vould do it right now!" His usually listless eyes aflame, Starker cocked the pistol in emphasis.  
  
"Zen you vill not murder me ven I leave ze premises." Siegfried leapt to his feet, completely free from the cord. "You should never use curtain sashes as robe, my dear ex-minion," growled the KAOS spy. He edged to the front door, but Starker jumped in the way.  
  
"Nein, you cannot leave; I vill not let you." Trembling with fear and from the surge of adrenaline, Starker pointed the gun at his former boss's head.  
  
Siegfried complacently sauntered up to the tall, impressive figure of Starker. "You you gave your vord to Tara zat you vould not hurt me."  
  
Mr. Starker backed right into the door, determined to not let Siegfried escape. It was at that inopportune moment that Tara chose to return to the flat. Flinging open the door, she called, "I finally convinced that brute of a landlord!"  
  
It should be noted that there were two columns in Steed's flat that separated the living area from the entranceway. When Tara opened the door, she pushed Starker right into one of the pillars! He immediately was knocked senseless from the blow, much to Tara's vexation and Siegfried's glee. The automatic pistol slipped from Starker's limp hands to the floor, but not before letting a single bullet lodge itself in the wood.  
  
"Starker, how could you be so stupid?" Tara cried, as she pulled at her short bobbed wig, utterly distraught. Before she had time to react to her own inquisition, there was a mad scramble as Siegfried fled out the door and Tara stooped for the pistol. After she noticed that Siegfried was not interested in the weapon, she went in pursuit of him.  
  
Conrad dashed down the flight of stairs, never stopping for a minute, but even though he was running at full speed, the agile Tara soon caught up with him. When he reached the lobby where the landlord was situated, Siegfried turned 180 degrees around and started heading upstairs again. He bumped into the discombobulated Tara, who didn't realise it was her enemy until he was around the corner.   
  
Conrad knew there was only one way to escape Miss King's prying arms, and that was to hide in a flat until she was out of sight. Hurriedly, he turned the first doorknob he came to, but the door was locked. He tried the next knob, which turned easily. He placed his ear up to the door, and when he detected no noises emerging from the apartment, he entered. Unfortunately for him, his precautions had enabled Tara to catch up with him. Miss King barged through the flat's door before he had time to lock it. Panting but smiling exultantly, she chased him into the corner of the living room where there was a little table with a phone on top of it.   
  
Tara never knew what possessed her to be so reckless, but one moment she was staring superiorly at the KAOS man, while the next he was the one with the condescending gaze planted on his face. With one swift move, Siegfried grabbed the headset of the phone from its cradle and bashed it on Miss King's head. Tara stared at him, stunned, before she collapsed onto the floor.   
  
To Be Continued! 


	3. First Night

First Night  
  
Emma Peel and John Steed laughed gaily as they drove down the road toward their apartment. When they reached Primrose Crescent, Steed turned instead of going straight. "I thought I'd remind Tara in person of our little fete tonight at our place. It's so much friendlier than talking to her over the phone."  
  
Mrs. Steed shrugged her slim shoulders nonchalantly, which indicated that she was fine with either scheme. The two soon entered Miss King's flat, but obviously she was not there. Puzzled but not too concerned, the duo traveled home where interesting turns of event were about to take place.  
  
Steed and Emma entered their cozy flat with their treasured bottles of champagne and Katie. They discussed where they thought Tara might be, not heeding Herr Starker mumbling something about finding his true love. Suddenly they spotted the bulky German.  
  
"What are you doing in our flat?" Steed demanded as he gently set his champers aside.   
  
"I vas vith Tara, but now she has vanished!" cried Starker.  
  
"So you helped some other enemy spy kidnap her?" Emma accused as she passed her baby to her husband.  
  
"Nein, I am on your side, I zvear!" Before the blubbering German could utter another syllable, Mrs. Peel approached him.  
  
"You enemy agents need to come up with better excuses than that," scoffed the courageous Mrs. Steed before she expertly karate chopped him in the neck. Mr. Starker slumped to the floor for the third time that day.   
  
"I suggest we take him to H and have him interrogated," Steed said. Emma Peel readily agreed, so while Steed dragged the nemesis into his Bentley, Emma carried her daughter. Then the two secret agents drove to headquarters.  
  
To say H was peeved at Mr. and Mrs. Steed for bringing Starker into his office would be an understatement. His face turned red with anger, as he spurted, "No, Herr Starker is on our side, trying to help us discover what Conrad Siegfried is after!"  
  
"Who's this Siegfried fellow?" Steed asked.  
  
"You probably know him better by his KAOS codename, Ludwig von Siegfried. He is in England, creating-"  
  
"Chaos?" Emma supplied, cradling Katie in her arms.   
  
"Yes, I heard about this man and his devious ways," Steed suddenly recalled. "Do you have any idea what he would want from us?"  
  
"I think it may be the documents on the defense weapon," replied H.  
  
"Well, no one will ever find them, you can depend on it!" Steed proclaimed proudly.   
  
"Are you absolutely sure about that?" enquired H.  
  
"He's telling the truth, because I don't even know where it is," Emma informed him.  
  
It was at this moment that Starker revived-for the third time that day, it might be noted again. "Vere am I; am I dead yet?" he asked as he painstakingly got to his feet.  
  
"I'm sorry for my abrupt behaviour at our flat, but I thought you were the enemy," Mrs. Steed earnestly apologised.  
  
"Do you know what Siegfried wants or where Tara is?" Steed questioned.  
  
"I used to know all ze answers, but I've been hit on ze head so many times today, everyzing is a jumbled mess in my brain." Starker rubbed his head subconsciously. "All I know is zat Siegfried vanted zome papers about veapons or somezing."  
  
"So I was right after all!" H crowed.  
  
"But what about Miss Tara King, what happened to her?" Steed was becoming quite desperate.  
  
"I told you I don't remember zat far back! All I know is zat I vas hit on ze head when Tara was trying to catch Siegfried, and ven I awoke, Tara and Siegfried vere both gone!" Starker slapped his hand over his mouth in shock and delight. "I remember everyzing zat happened!"  
  
The three English spies did not share his cheerful enthusiasm. "You mean to tell us that one of our best agents is the prisoner of the world's most demented and diabolical mastermind of all time?" screeched H.  
  
Starker had to think a moment to determine what the man meant, but finally he answered, "Zat's exactly vat I am saying."  
  
"Do you know where Ludwig could be?" Mrs. Peel leaned forward intently, Katie still nestled in her arms.  
  
"I can't quite recall where our British hideout is, but if I traveled around all the dirty parts of London, I'm sure to find it." Mr. Starker didn't seem to notice that no one found his idea admirable.  
  
"Then we'll just have to wait until we hear from her or Siegfried," Emma sighed.  
  
"There's got to be something we can do besides pass the time," Steed murmured.  
  
"Well, several hours ago I called Conrad Siegfried's archenemy, Mr. Maxwell Smart to inform him that Siegfried was on the loose. Smart should arrive several hours from now to help us with this case. If Agent 86 can't plan Siegfried's next move, no one can."  
  
"We'll just return to our flat in the meantime, but make sure to call us the minute Mr. Smart gets to the ministry." Emma gently prodded the anxious Steed out of the room. She understood how protective he was of the young woman who had been like a daughter to him. Mrs. Steed hoped with all her heart that Tara King returned safely.  
  
******************  
  
Tara was in darkness, her mind trying desperately to hear the indistinguishable dialogue that was drumming in her brain. She couldn't tell if she was falling down a hole or sailing down a river. She was just about to give up ever gaining control when she heard a heavy boot push into her side. She opened her eyes and blinked rapidly at the bright light and blurry images.  
  
"So you finally recovered from your blow, Fraulein King," sneered a caustic voice. The alpine figure of Conrad Siegfried loomed over Tara's crumpled body.  
  
Miss King groggily struggled to a sitting position and surveyed her surroundings. She was in a musty building as quiet as a museum on a weekday. Only several pieces of dilapidated furniture and wooden crates littered the cement floor. Tara noticed that she was bound at the wrists and the ankles but was not gagged.  
  
"Is this the part where I thank you profusely for waiting for me to revive instead of murdering me in cold blood?" Tara enquired dryly.  
  
"You could zank me, but it wouldn't affect your fate." Conrad started pacing back in forth in the military way. "Now Miss King, I vant you to tell me vere the dossiers on ze secret veapon are and where my idiot goon is.  
  
"Starker was at Steed's flat when I last saw him."  
  
"I checked zere while you vere out cold, und he vas gone. Now tell me all I vant to know, or be prepared to face ze consequences."  
  
"I am prepared to face the consequences right now." Tara figured it would be futile to explain she didn't know the location of the file when Siegfried wasn't going to believe her no matter what she said.  
  
Ludwig von Siegfried rummaged around in one of the crates until he found a large flashlight. He brought it over to her and shone it directly into her eyes.  
  
Okay, so not one of his brighter moves, Tara thought. Well, it is bright in the sense of the light, but intelligence wise, it ranks as zero. All I have to do is turn my head, for after all, he didn't tie that portion of my body. Miss King turned her head to the right, avoiding the annoying torch. When Siegfried shone it in her pale eyes again, she moved her head to the left.   
  
After several minutes of these shenanigans, Ludwig tossed the electric torch away in disgust. "Zat vas very clever, Fraulein, but now your next torture vill be even more painful."  
  
"You saw how I endured this pain, didn't you?" quipped Tara King overconfidently.  
  
"Have you ever heard of bamboo under the fingernails?"  
  
"Could we return to the torch, please?"  
  
Siegfried laughed maniacally as twisted her bound arm in an awkward position so he could he place a stick of bamboo under Tara's long, violet fingernail. "Vere are zose papers, Fraulein King, and vere is my shtupid goon, Shtarker?"  
  
"I'm not going to tell you, you menacing criminal!"  
  
Siegfried applied more pressure, but Tara would not relent. "VERE IS SHTARKER, AND VERE ARE ZE PAPERS HIDDEN, YOU IMPERTINENT LITTLE GIRL?"  
  
"YOU'LL HAVE TO KILL ME FIRST, YOU INSULTING BABOON!" Miss King retorted in a bellowing voice.  
  
"ZAT CAN EASILY BE ARRANGED, YOU FOOL!" Conrad spat out at the complacent Tara.  
  
The pain was beginning to bother Tara, but she hid it quite effectively. In a loud and obnoxious voice, she sang, "John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Schmidt, that's my name, too! Whenever we go out, the people always shout, 'There goes John Jacob Jingle-Heimer Schmidt.' Na, na, na, Na, NA, NA, NA! John Jacob . . ."  
  
"Vat ze heck are you doing!" bellowed the irate German.  
  
"It's called singing, Herr Siegfried," Miss King replied through gritted teeth as he applied even more pressure to her finger. She was certain the bamboo would be permanently embedded in her skin. To keep her mind off the soreness, she began singing the same tune. Once she had finished a round, she enquired, "Why don't you like the song? It's about a German, and I must add that he is probably much more respectable and agreeable than you."  
  
It must have been the wrong thing to say to an embittered KAOS man, for Siegfried gouged her pointer finger so incredibly hard that the blood began to flow. Then, whether it was unintentional or not, he gripped her wrist with all his might, stopping the circulation in her hand. The blood no longer came to the surface, and Tara King didn't know if this was more painful than just having the blood trickle down her hand.  
  
Tara bit her lip to keep from spurting more insults or screaming in utter discomfort. Unfortunately, now her lips were bleeding from the weight of her teeth. Her hand was going numb, a sensation that made her feel completely out of control like when she had fainted. Her face, she was sure, was as blanche as her hand, and as she fought the urge to blurt out a lie on the location of the dossiers, she felt blood trickle down her chin unto her lace kerchief.  
  
"I belief zat hand is too numb to feel ze full effect of ze torture, so I vill go to ze ozer arm," announced Conrad logically. Leaving the one bamboo stick in her right hand, he twisted her other am to get another bamboo piece under her fingernail. "Zis could all be avoided if you cooperated, Miss King."  
  
"Yes, it could, but didn't you know that I don't like avoiding things?"  
  
"Just tell me all you know, and I'll shtop zis torture."  
  
"It's funny, but I don't trust a KAOS agent."  
  
"That's incredible, because I don't trust people on ze right side of ze law," Siegfried muttered sarcastically. He dug the piece of bamboo as deeply as he could without breaking it.  
  
Tara finally could not control her bravery and cried out in alarm at the throbbing and the bleeding of her hand. "Oh, that hurts so much-uh, I can't stand it!"   
  
"You like your shtupid song about John Schmidt, but I prefer ze sweet sound of agony and terror!" Ludwig von Siegfried's face was lit up with a malevolent grin.  
  
By this time the feeling in her right hand had returned, hurting with a vengeance. Miss King writhed in at the sting in her fingers, but no matter what she did, her hands kept throbbing. Tara gasped as a white film came across her eyes, and she felt herself succumbing to the unconsciousness. Maybe if I fainted, he would stop using this torture on me. She was about to surrender to the darkness when Siegfried yanked the bamboo out of her fingers. This was even more excruciating than pushing the sticks into her hands!  
  
Miss King fell over on her face, not caring that the blood was running on the ground, down her arms and chin, and on her dress. Some liquid fell from her eyes, blurring her vision. It was only after she was lying still for several minutes that she realised it was tears, tears she could not remove because of the pain in her hands, not to mention that she was still tied up.  
  
Conrad shoved her with his foot until she managed to sit upright. "Since you revealed absolutely nozing to me, I vill have to try anozer torture. I have been recording our entire conversation, Miss King. I vill now play it back, but at twice ze normal speed and at full volume." Wirth that foreboding message, he clamped heavy noise-blocking earphones over his head and wandered over to a large crate. With a crowbar, he pried it open to reveal a stereo with humongous speakers. He pressed the rewind buttons on the tape player then clicked "play."  
  
After only four seconds of listening to her discussion with Siegfried played two times as fast as usual, Miss King surmised that she would only be able to tolerate the deafening cacophony for three minutes before totally losing her mind. As the high-pitched voices prattled on to each other, she lay perfectly still, thinking of anything but the sound that was tormenting her brain. It was nearly impossible to block the clamor, for Siegfried continued to raise the volume. But Tara was as obstinate as he and would not relent that easily.   
  
I've got to think of anything but that noise, Tara mused hopelessly. She tried to think of the din as being just as earsplitting as a rock concert where the singers did nothing but screech and make their electric guitars wail. However, nothing could stop the infernal racket from pricking her brain.   
  
Tara fell over, squirming on the floor as the persistent noise drone on, getting louder as Siegfried jacked up the volume. It became so loud that he had to cover his own ears, even though the headphones protected them. He grimaced as the clatter reverberated in his ears. He couldn't imagine how it must sound to Tara, who had nothing to guard her ears.   
  
Miss King was certain her eardrums were going to burst, but she held her tongue. Feeling something oozing from her ears, she wondered if it was blood. Would Conrad make every part of her body bleed before one of them surrendered? Tara wanted desperately to cover her ears, but her hands were tied. She opened her mouth but abruptly shut it again.   
  
What would be the point of telling him where Starker was being kept? Wouldn't Siegfried just go to the ministry, kill everyone there, and then take Starker? Tara would still be his captive, and he still wouldn't know where the papers were. And if she told a falsehood about the location of the files, he may become so enraged when he discovered the truth that he killed her. It was a losing battle no matter what she did.  
  
It was coming to the point where thinking rationally was as unbearable as the bamboo under the nails. Miss King's head throbbed, her ears rang, and her brain felt ready to explode. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing tears of absolute pain to flow down her cheeks. Finally, after she was certain she had been rendered deaf, she screamed, "All right, I'll tell you where Starker is, just please stop!"  
  
The voices ceased their clamor instantly, and the room was silent save for Siegfried's heavy footsteps approaching her, and Tara's intense breathing. Conrad's military boots stopped inches in front of Tara King's rigid body. He grabbed her arms, pulling her into sitting position. "Vere is Herr Starker my thug?" He was so close to Tara's face she could feel his breath on her neck.  
  
Tara tried to ignore the ringing in her ears as she listened to Ludwig von Siegfried's inquisition. She gulped several times as she murmured weakly, "He was at Steed's flat-but I suspect he was taken to my ministry for protection."  
  
"You've done good, girly." Siegfried dropped Miss King like she was a sack of potatoes. As a result, her head hit the cement floor.   
  
"I hate you!" sobbed Tara.  
  
"Zis may come as a shock to you, cookie, but ze feeling is mutual." Much to her relative surprise, Conrad began to untie her. "Ve'll be moving out in about zree hours time, in case you vere interested. Now get up and vash yourself off. You look like you've been under strenuous torture." He laughed in his demented way before pulling Tara to her feet. He smacked her on the back as he said in a feigned polite voice, "Now off you go, little girl!"  
  
Tara turned on him, anger flooding her careworn eyes. "Don't touch me ever again, or-" She raised her hand as if to strike him, but he grabbed it and twisted it.  
  
"Or you'll vhat?" Siegfried raised his blond eyebrow, evidently not at all threatened.  
  
"If you ever lay a hand on me again I'll commit the worst deed imaginable in your eyes, something that brings such terror to your soul that you'll beg me for mercy."  
  
"Nozing you could ever to do me vould frighten me." Ludwig let Tara's arm drop to her side limply.   
  
"I haven't met a man yet who doesn't have a fear of some kind." Tara stared directly in his steely eyes as she added, "Unless you aren't a man but a monster."  
  
Siegfried raised his hand in the same manner Tara had done moments before but slowly lowered it. "You don't hit me, and I von't hit you; and ve'll call it even."   
  
Miss King turned a reproachful eye away from the atrocious beast in human form. As she heard his receding footsteps, she gingerly touched her ears. To her relief, she discovered the liquid that had dripped down her face was merely sweat, not blood. She gazed at her fingers, which were swollen. She ran a hand through her bobbed wig, noticing that it was now ruined beyond repair.   
  
She gave an involuntary shudder before sinking to the floor, weeping silently. She was trapped with a madman, and she didn't know if she would get out alive.  
  
******************  
  
John Steed paced back and forth in his tidy flat, passing his wife and child every three seconds. "Why doesn't H call us?"  
  
"Evidently Mr. Smart has not arrived in England yet," Emma replied in her soothing tone as Katie giggled in her lap.   
  
"No one is going to be safe until these papers are out of my possession," muttered Mr. Steed.   
  
"So, John dear, where did you put them?" Emma asked in her sweetest voice.  
  
"Do you solemnly swear not to tell a living soul the location of the dossiers?" Steed managed to tease her.  
  
"You have my word as a loyal citizen of Great Britain."  
  
Once satisfied that his wife would keep her promise, Steed said, "Do you remember those two bottles of blanc de blanc that I had left in the icebox? Well, there actually was only one bottle of wine left."  
  
Emma gave him a disbelieving gaze before venturing into the kitchen to have a look in the freezer. "There are two bottles in here, Steed!"   
  
John Steed likewise entered the kitchen and retrieved the wine from its nest in the icebox. In his most unperturbed manner, he set one of the dark green tinted bottles on the counter while he opened the other one. To Mrs. Steed's astonishment, the opened bottle held not the wine but the secret documents! Steed smugly placed the bottles back into the refrigerator, leaving his wife to stare at him admiringly.  
  
Just then Dr. King and Mrs. Gale arrived. "We came as soon as we got your message at the surgery," King informed him. "Cathy and I were out when you called, and that's why my receptionist took your message. We would have been here sooner if not for that setback.  
  
"How are you handling this, Steed?" Catherine Gale enquired in the tender voice she rarely used on her associate. "You were very close friends with Tara, weren't you?"  
  
"Don't speak in the past tense as if she were dead," snapped Steed irritably. "And yes, we are close . . . friends."  
  
"Were you just friends, honestly John?" Mrs. Peel suddenly demanded.  
  
"My God, Emma, is this the time to ask me that?" Steed cried in anguish.  
  
Cathy silently took the baby from Mrs. Steed's arms and motioned with her head for King to follow her to the kitchen. Martin willingly trailed after his fiancée out of the room, not ready to endure any violence or anger that was sure to arise.  
  
"I'm sorry," Emma and John simultaneously said.   
  
"I'm just as worried as you, Steed; I'm just taking it out in a different way." Emma Peel rose from her seat on the sofa and wandered over to the motionless man. Draping an arm around his shoulder, she leaned her head on his back. "I know Tara will use her intellect and fighting skills to escape from that villain."  
  
"I wish I was as confident as you, but I've seen how many times I had to come to her rescue."  
  
"You had to do the same with me on more than one occasion," Mrs. Steed gently reminded him.  
  
The phone began to ring incessantly, shattering the consoling moment for the couple. Steed nearly flew to the phone in agitation, but he managed to regain his composure as he said, "This is John Steed here."  
  
"Hello, Mr. Snead," came a nasal male voice with a touch of a Bronx accent in it, "This is Maxwell Smart, agent 86 of CONTROL."  
  
"And this is Mr. Steed, not 'Snead.'"  
  
Max ignored the proper British voice on his end of the line as he continued, "I just arrived in London a few minutes ago and I am now at your spy headquarters. What's this I hear about Ludwig von Ziegfried wreaking havoc in your fair city?'  
  
"It appears Herr Siegfried has kidnapped one of my closest friends, and the only leads we have is the information we pried from Starker and the automatic pistol that was discovered in our flat."  
  
"Did you get any fingerprints from it yet?"  
  
"No, I was waiting for you to come over, since our agency does not have any records of Siegfried's fingerprints."  
  
"I'll be over there as soon as I find out where you live."  
  
"Isn't H there to tell you all that information?" Steed asked patiently.  
  
"Yes well, he is here, but he's lying unconscious on the floor."   
  
"How on earth did he get knocked out?" Steed demanded incredulously.  
  
"I don't know, but maybe it's because I accidentally spilled my glass of water on the floor and H happened to slip on it before crashing into his desk."  
  
To add to all his troubles, Steed began to feel a headache throbbing in his temples. He methodically gave his address to Mr. Smart, the only way he could stay tranquil. After this procedure was done and the telephone was back in its cradle, Steed told his wife, "Mr. Smart will be arriving shortly. Whether that is a good thing or not, we will soon find out."  
  
Emma raised a quizzical eyebrow but made no witty reply. Speaking quietly to themselves, Cathy and Martin reentered the living area with Katie. "Is there anything we can do to help the situation?" Mrs. Gale wanted to know.  
  
"No, just stay with us until we here some news about Tara's predicament." Mrs. Steed held out her arms where Cathy lovingly placed the baby.  
  
It was fifteen minutes later when Mr. Maxwell Smart arrived at the flat. He was attired in a pink dress shirt and a blue suit coat and pants. A white tie finished off the ghastly apparel. Steed made a mental note never to wear anything pink.  
  
As Smart entered the living area, the Avengers perceived a young brunette woman standing behind him. "Are you the unfortunate-I mean-fortunate Mrs. Smart?" Steed questioned.  
  
"Yes, I am," the longhaired beauty gushed as she trailed after her husband.   
  
"Tell me, how did you come across such a . . . man?" Steed continued his bumbling dialogue.  
  
"We worked together for several years, and finally I got him to propose." Mrs. Smart was blushing, glancing askance at her husband.  
  
"I've always said that even though the men claim they're the ones who decide to propose, it always is the women who plant that idea in their heads in the first place," Cathy declared.  
  
"Yes, then they just act on the plan when the right moment arises," Emma agreed.  
  
"Women," scoffed the three men in the room.  
  
"So, are you going to take fingerprints?" Steed demanded impatiently. After receiving an affirmative answer, Steed added, "Where is your kit?"  
  
"99, if you would please produce the file with Ziegfried and Shtarker's fingerprints?" Max extended his hand and his wife placed several sheaves of paper in it. She opened what appeared to be a makeup case but was, in reality, a vile of powder.   
  
Smart began dusting the gun that Emma had produced for him by holding onto it with a handkerchief. "The prints are too small to see with the naked eye." To everyone's consternation, Max undid his belt, which became a magnifying glass after several swift manoeuvres. After looking through it for several minute seconds, Max cried, "Ah ha, there are two sets of fingerprints on this weapon, both male and German."  
  
"Max, how can you tell all that when you haven't even seen if those prints match Siegfried's and Starker's?" his wife patiently asked.  
  
"Would you believe me if I took out the German part?" was the reply. Mr. Smart compared the fingerprints on the gun to those on the pieces of paper. "After a thorough exam, I have concluded that the fingerprints are identical to those of Starker and Siegfried."  
  
"So Tara was kidnapped by that diabolical mastermind," Steed construed hopelessly.  
  
"Oh, I feel so extremely sorry for that girl," sighed Mrs. Smart.  
  
"Steed, why don't you explain everything that has occurred today to the Smarts?" Mrs. Peel suggested.  
  
"Yes, we're not exactly familiar with the whole plot either," said Martin King.  
  
Steed heaved a tired sigh that came from the depths of his disturbed soul before explaining everything he knew to his captivated audience.  
  
To Be Continued! Or Not! Mwwhahaha! (That was a joke) 


	4. First Late Night

First Late Night  
  
  
Tara must have been sleeping, for she jolted from a terrifying dream to hear Conrad Siegfried ordering her to get up. She agonizingly rose to her feet, not ready to face the German barbarian.   
  
"Ve are going to Germany now, Fraulein King."  
  
Miss King started at this information, frightened that if she left the country she might never be found. She had to try to escape! She quickly thought up an excuse to go to her flat and asked beseechingly, "May we go to my apartment to pick up some more clothes? If I'm stuck in this attire, you may grow tired of my stench." She smiled bitterly at the hardened criminal in front of her.  
  
"Very vell," he conceded, "but I vill come into the flat vith you."  
  
"And risk being caught by my friends, who might be waiting there for me?"  
  
"If any of your colleagues are in ze vay, I vill shoot zem down." Ludwig von Siegfried grabbed her wrist with one of his cold hands.  
  
"I told you never to touch me again." Tara wriggled out of his harsh grasp.  
  
The two exited the hideout, not speaking nor looking at each other. They traveled to Tara King's flat in a stony silence that effected Miss King's attitude toward Siegfried immensely. Several minutes ago, she had been petrified of the KAOS agent, but now she was just furious with him for his ill treatment.   
  
They went into her flat by the bottom entrance in case any neighbor found it suspicious that a stranger was escorting Tara around. Knowing this might be her last time, Miss King bravely entered her bedroom. She packed a small but tidy suitcase before replacing her damaged wig for a new short curled one. Then she stepped over to her bedroom window to see how far it was to the ground. Her flat was built into a hill, so the bottom entrance was at ground level, but the rest of her apartment sprang several stories above the ground. This was not the time or place to make her getaway.  
  
She swiftly shut the bedroom door before making her exit with Conrad, his revolver never leaving her head for a moment. The two drove to an abandoned airport outside of London where his plane was waiting. They boarded it, and Siegfried took the controls while Tara sat in the co-pilot seat. Even though she had been trained to fly a plane during drastic circumstances, Tara refused to help her captor.  
  
Miss King realised she needed her rest if she was to ever outwit the crafty villain, so she closed her eyes and went to sleep again. She was in Germany when she awoke-alone, but not frightened. A new emotion had replaced the fear she had once felt for the tyrant: unadulterated hatred. She despised him more than any other abominable crook she had ever met.   
  
It's only a matter of time before you conquer this monster, Tara thought to herself as she stepped out of the airplane with her luggage. She was jarred from her musings when Siegfried shoved her into an old Volkswagen. Another KAOS agent was chauffeuring the car, so Siegfried sat in the back with her.  
  
Tara went over the methods she had learned at the Non-violent Way to Subdue Your Enemies seminar. She could befriend Siegfried, talk him out of whatever he was doing, drive him out of his mind, or make him fall in love with her. Tara King chose the first option, and immediately went to work. "So where is your lovely wife, Herr Siegfried?"  
  
"Vhat do you care about my vife?"  
  
"I just thought that since we're going to be spending all this time together we ought to be sociable." Tara shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as she stared vapidly at him.  
  
"My vife is at home, and I von't tell you vere my home is, all right girly?"  
  
"I wonder what she saw in you," Tara lashed out.  
  
"Even if you find zis hard to believe, I don't act zis vay in front of her, Fraulein. She isn't impertinent, meddlesome, nor vorking for ze enemy." Siegfried slouched in his corner of the car seat, his forehead creased with fury.  
  
"It must be interesting to see you when you're gazing lovingly at your wife, instead of scowling out the window." Tara felt the rage that had settled over the easily incensed German. She suddenly wished Herr Siegfried was sitting in the front with his minion.   
  
Much to her relief, the chauffer switched on the radio, and an upbeat English tune blared out the speakers. Miss King began tapping her toe to the rhythm before singing along. She soon was so immersed in the music she almost forgot about the stalwart man seated next to her. As the song ended and another one began, she glanced over at Siegfried, who was glaring petulantly at her.   
  
"Vat on earth are you doing, Fraulein?"  
  
"This is called singing, Mr. Siegfried," was the caustic retort. Tara resumed her singing, reciting the lyrics by memory. "There she was just a walking down the street, singing 'Do Wah Diddy, Diddy Dum, Diddy Do.'"  
  
It appeared Conrad was trying urgently to control his temper, for he pursed his lips together and said, "Uh Tara, zis is KAOS; we don't 'Do Wah Diddy' here."  
  
"I think you just added that rule," Miss King replied, not the least bit offended. She commenced her singing, "'She looked good, she looked fine, and I nearly lost my mind!'"  
  
"You are going to lose your life if you don't shtop zat infernal racket!" screeched Ludwig.  
  
"Haven't you ever tried singing to lift your spirits, or does nothing make you happy?"  
  
"I don't have time to be cheerful, and neizer do you."  
  
"Don't decide what I can and cannot do!" Tara snapped in a fit of righteous anger.  
  
"Don't contradict me, girly!"  
  
It was at this moment that Tara decided to change her tactics in subduing her enemy. Evidently he was not in the mood to become friendly with her, so she would have to resort to driving him insane. Since Siegfried was already partly demented, she knew it would take her only several attempts to push him over the edge. Putting her new escape method into effect, she exclaimed, "I like being referred to as 'girly'; it sounds so warm and feminine, two things that I am."  
  
"I was trying to insult you, ignorant girl."  
  
"Your attempts to insult are all futile, Herr Siegfried, so you might as well save your voice for yelling out instructions and threats." Tara's comment seemed to sober the German, for he fell into another one of his sullen stupors. The undaunted Miss King began singing a love ballad that was now playing on the radio. As she crooned, she glanced out the window at the sky.   
  
The moon peeped out from behind a rain cloud, shining its resplendent rays onto the ground and into the automobile. Tara gasped as she breathed, "It's a full moon, and it's so bright, it's lighting up the inside of our car! Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in your life?" With a jolt she remembered to whom she was speaking, but to her shock Siegfried answered her.  
  
"It's never looked so big and dazzling before."  
  
"Do you suppose it's a good or a bad omen?" Tara King turned to look at Conrad, but he had lapsed into his silence. She cast her eyes to the carpeted floor and suddenly felt his penetrating gaze upon her. For some unfathomable reason, Tara felt her face flush red and burn. Was she embarrassed at her juvenile behaviour? Did it really matter what this beast thought of her?  
  
Fortunately, another rock and roll tune resonated out of the speakers, causing Tara to forget her strange demeanor. She began to sing and jig in her seat, not heeding the bemused look she was receiving from Conrad. She snapped her fingers, twisted, bobbed her head, and did the arm movements from the Monkey. Then, before she comprehended what she was doing, she shimmied with all of her strength.   
  
Once more the blood rushed to her face as she realised what she had done. Siegfried's eyes nearly bulged from their sockets, his countenance also as red as a tomato. Acting as if nothing was wrong, Miss King spoke dryly, "I know, 'this is KAOS; we don't shimmy here.'"  
  
"Is zat vat you call zat-zat . . . dance move?"  
  
"Considering the fact that your married, you certainly don't know a lot about women and dance moves that accentuate certain parts of their anatomy."  
  
"It is my conclusion zat I am incredibly lucky."  
  
"I'm sorry, but some types of rhythm put me in giddy moods. Being music illiterate, you wouldn't understand." Another romantic ballad began playing, once more mesmerising Tara into song. When the refrain came along, Tara belted out, "Sha La La La La La La La La means I love you!"  
  
At the same instant the two blurted, "Zis is KAOS; we don't 'Sha La La' here!"  
  
Despite his threat, Siegfried found himself singing the refrain very quietly with Tara the next round. Miss King pretended she didn't see him, but every so often, she would turn to glance at him. The moon would shine on his face, making him almost attractive, especially with a half smile playing on his lips. It also helped that she couldn't see his hideously long scar on his left cheek, which made him appear twice as wicked and sinister, and his eyes weren't agleam with terrorizing fire. In fact, his light eyes were practically dreamy, as if he was remembering a happier time in his life.  
  
He's probably thinking of his wife, Tara thought. It was then that she perceived that Siegfried was not wearing a wedding band! "Do you not wear a wedding ring?" she abruptly enquired.  
  
"Vat-oh, it's here somevere I'm sure." Siegfried patted his pockets absentmindedly.  
  
"I zought it was a suicide ring," shouted the chauffer.  
  
"What on earth do you mean by that?" Tara wondered aloud.  
  
"It means zat if he ever takes his ring off, his vife vill kill him," the goon chuckled.  
  
In spite of her fruitless attempts to remain composed, Tara burst into a fit of giggles. "So do you get all your bad manners and diabolical intentions from your wife, Siegfried?"  
  
"You vill be sorry you laughed at me, Fraulein King!" Conrad snarled as his face turned purple with wrath.  
  
"What are you going to do: give me your suicide ring and threaten to murder me if I take it off? I'm afraid it would have quite the same effect on me as it does on you. So the high and mighty Ludwig von Siegfried is afraid of his wife? Wonders never seem to cease, do they?"  
  
Siegfried used several imprecations, but fortunately he spoke in his native tongue. He pounded on the seat with his clenched fists, stomped his feet like an impertinent child, and began to sulk once more.   
  
Tara realised just how ludicrous it was to be fearful of the German. She had met amateur enemy agents who posed more danger than he! Siegfried was still a child, fighting to free himself and searching in all the wrong places. She didn't know why, but her hatred for him dissolved in that second and was replaced with absolute pity. Tara, you need to rest! She thought to herself. You can't pity any criminal, or one day you just might let all of the villains in the world escape! Just because Siegfried is a pathetic man, it doesn't give you the permission to turn into a soft spy! They don't need your type in any ministry just remember that!  
  
The vehicle pulled up to a decrepit building, which had No Trespassing signs nailed all over it. Tara was ordered out of the car and was commanded to enter the establishment through a small crevice that was barely large enough for her let alone the massive figure of Siegfried. It took a short time for her eyes to grow accustomed to the darkness in room. However as soon as she was able to see in the dark, the chauffeur switched on a lamp.  
  
Remembering the Miss King's threat in the previous warehouse, Siegfried warily nodded for Tara to walk ahead of him down a narrow chamber. He did not want to take the chance that if he happened to goad her, she would lash out in some violent way. He was not in the mood to eschew any onslaught, even if a simple and weak woman performed it.  
  
Miss King was forced to enter a cubicle that was approximately ten by eleven feet wide and long. It was rudimentary quarters with few pieces of furniture and shaggy, brown carpet. There was a dingy cot on one side, a transistor radio opposite the bed, and two chairs and a wooden table all with uneven legs plopped in the middle. There were three windows in the room, two of which were boarded up. The third had quite a steep drop to the ground and faced an open field of brown grass and mud.   
  
"It's very comfortable lodgings," Tara remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"I'm glad you like zem so much, cutie," retorted the German in the same tone, "because ziz is vere you vill be shtaying until further arrangements can be made." With a pistol pointed at the young woman's back, Conrad motioned for Tara to sit. "Vhat is ze phone number of Herr Shteed?"   
  
Tara eyed the gun cagily as she gave the required information. Siegfried picked up a phone and dialed the number with a self-satisfied look on his face. Since he was at his ease, Tara was able to creep up next to him and listen to the conversation.  
  
In merry, old England, Steed hurriedly dashed to his telephone. "Hello, John Steed here."  
  
"Allo Mr. Shteed, zis is Ludvig von Siegfried."  
  
"What have you done with Tara, you monster?" Steed demanded tersely. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at him as he spoke.  
  
"She is safe right now, but zat may not always be ze case unless you comply vith my request," Siegfried handed the phone to Tara so she could speak to her friend.  
  
"Steed, whatever he asks you to do, refuse. My life is not worth saving; I'm prepared to die for the cause." Tara King was about to continue when she felt a heavy hand clamp over her mouth. She got out of Siegfried's grasp to shout, "I told you never to touch me again, you deaf man!"  
  
Conrad ignored her comment to tell Steed, "All I vant are ze secret dossiers and my faithful goon, Shtarker. If you give me zese items, I vill release your friend unharmed, but if you try to trick me, she vill die instantly!"  
  
"How can we possibly give you the papers if we don't know where you are?" Steed asked.  
  
"If you promise to give ze items I vant, zen I vill tell you vhere I am hiding."  
  
John Steed glanced at his tense companions before conceding. "All right, Siegfried we will do whatever you say."  
  
"Good, I like to talk to people who are cooperative." Conrad was about to give them the appropriate information, when Tara tore the phone from him.  
  
"No Steed, the safety of the whole world is more important than I!" Miss King screeched in the phone before it was taken away from her. Once more, Siegfried slapped his hand over her mouth.  
  
"I am in Germany, but you vill have to discover vhere!"  
  
"I don't have time to play games with you, Siegfried!" Steed declared furiously.  
  
"Zen you really don't care zat much about your friend."  
  
"This is Emma Steed and we agree to your terms." Mrs. Peel handed the phone back to her husband. "We really have no choice."  
  
"I'm glad I vas able to change your minds," Ludwig simpered as he spoke. "By ze vay, if you ever find out vhere I am and decide to pay me a visit, bring along Shmart! I vill only release Miss King if I can kill him!"  
  
"You said nothing about that when we agreed to your terms!" protested Steed. "That's not at all fair!"  
  
"ZIS IS KAOS; VE DON"T PLAY FAIR HERE!" Siegfried slammed the phone back onto its cradle. He smiled maliciously at his prisoner as he kept his hand over her lips.  
  
Enraged at his cruel behaviour towards her colleagues and his disregard to her threat, Tara sunk her teeth into his flesh. She clamped harder as she heard her nemesis scream in pain. She didn't stop until she tasted the salty blood in her mouth.  
  
Siegfried's eyes sparked with such powerful anger that Tara was sure she was as good as dead. In a flash, he whipped his hand free from her teeth. In another second his hands were around her slender neck as he squeezed ever so gently. "I could end your life right now if zat's vhat you vant."  
  
"Actually, I would prefer being kept alive," Tara responded tartly. Her pale eyes stared into his, daring him to strangle her.  
  
Realising for the first time just how brave his captive was, Siegfried released his death grip. "I have some business to attend to, so I vill send vone of my men to guard you."  
  
Tara knew that her only possible means of escape was if she worked on the leader, Siegfried. Even if she did manage to convince whatever stooge was watching her to let her go, Tara would still have Conrad to negotiate with. And she was fairly certain he would not let her leave the premises unless she drove him insane, or performed some other devious method on him.  
  
In her most affectionate voice she began, "Ah yes, your men always treated me with such admiration. When Starker was at my flat, he couldn't stop staring at me or my-er-chest. He has such a one-track mind, but that is what makes him so endearing. Did you know he tried to kiss me?"  
  
Siegfried, to say the least, was perplexed. He did not want to leave his captive in the charge of some lonely, love-starved hooligan. Suddenly he wished he hadn't kept his workers away from their wives for such a long time. "All right, I vill shtay here to make sure nozing bad happens to you."  
  
"Why Siegfried," Tara began in mock surprise, "I didn't know you cared."  
  
"I care about my goons, for if zey get into any type of mischief vith a girl, zey von't be able to concentrate on zeir main objective, which is to help me take over ze world."  
  
"I can understand your concern," Miss King remarked dryly.  
  
Conrad pressed a black button on the special KAOS issued walkie-talkie. In a matter of seconds, a burly thug marched into the quarters. He stopped abruptly and asked in a methodical voice, "You sent for me, Sir?"  
  
"I vant you to get me a few blankets and pillows and bring in our dinners also. I vill be vatching Fraulein King vhile she is in our company." Siegfried rolled his eyes as he noticed his goon drooling over Miss King's curvy body. He yelled commands in German, and the brute marched in military style out the door.  
  
"Were you ever in the army by any chance?" Tara asked.  
  
"Yes, I vas a colonel, and I trained each of my men to behave in a military fashion."  
  
"Don't tell me you were in the Third Reich way back in the forties?" Tara began to laugh as she noted Herr Conrad's crimsoned face. "You certainly just dated yourself!"  
  
"Zat may be so, but remember, your friend Shteed vas also in Vorld Var II, so I just date him as vell." Siegfried beamed superiorly at the daunted girl as he added, "It appears zis Shteed fellow and I have more in common zen I realised! Ve vere boz in ze army, ve are boz six foot two, and ve are boz secret agents."  
  
"Yes, but where Steed is debonair and friendly, you are evil and heartless. Steed is handsome, while you are ugly, not only in your appearance but in your soul." Tara clamped her mouth shut as she grasped what she had just said to her archenemy.  
  
Siegfried flashed his angered eyes at her before taking hold of her chin. "I could squish your head, but it would make quite a mess on ze floor." He dropped his hands to his side as he ordered, "Sit down zis instant, girly!"  
  
Tara rubbed her sore chin but did not move. She glared contemptuously at the middle-aged man before her, wondering how long they would tolerate each other before one of them killed the other. She was about to express this idea aloud when Siegfried roared, "I told you vonce and I vill tell you again: SIT DOWN!"  
  
Before she could even stop herself, Tara fell into one of the folding chairs in the centre of the room. Her eyes were riveted on Siegfried and his weapon, a gun that could destroy her life with one pull of the trigger. As the full impact of her hopeless predicament dawned upon her, she heaved a despondent sigh.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	5. First Early Morning

First Early Morning  
  
"I have a map of all the locations where Ziegfried could possibly be hiding in Germany," Maxwell Smart announced to a dismal group of agents back in England. He marched over to Steed's desk where he attempted to pull a wrinkled piece of paper out of his coat pocket. It caught on his button, ripping slightly in the process, and then fell from his hands onto the floor. Max stooped to retrieve it and hit his head on the edge of the desk on his way up.  
  
Everybody cringed at the painful thudding noise that emerged from Smart's cranium. Max rubbed the sore spot gingerly but otherwise seemed unperturbed by the little accident. He desperately tried to open the map only to fail several times. Finally he managed to get the map spread open on the desk. "Now, the KAOS outposts are marked in red, and the CIA, FBI, and every other agency are marked in green." Max scratched his head in bafflement as he complained to his wife, "This isn't right, 99! The KAOS hideouts are where our agencies should be!"  
  
"Good Lord, what will be next?" muttered John Steed to himself as he poured a rather large glass of brandy.  
  
"I think I will join you," Dr. King murmured as he snatched the snifter out of Steed's hands. Steed merely took a new glass from the portable bar and dispensed another drink for himself.  
  
Meanwhile, Max was puzzling over this new predicament, much to the amusement mixed with annoyance of Mrs. Gale, Mrs. Peel, and Mrs. Smart. Suddenly 99 spoke, "Uh, Max, the map is upside-down."  
  
"Shh, 99, I'm trying to think, and you're not helping me!" Max whined. "Wait a minute; the reason I can't read the map is because it is upside-down!" He corrected the problem immediately.  
  
"Good thinking, Max," 99 complimented him dutifully.  
  
Martin King and John Steed both choked on their brandy at this utterly ridiculous remark. Steed quickly gulped the rest of his liquor before pouring another ample glass. Dr. King suddenly realised that if he witnessed too many more antics from the Smarts he might become an alcoholic! He entered the kitchen where he quickly disposed of his brandy down the sink.  
  
"All we have to do is figure out which hideaway Ziegfried is stationed at and which of our fellow ministries is closest to that outpost. Then we'll take a plane over there, rest at the stop, and finally attack the KAOS headquarters." Max gazed each of the spies straight into the eye before continuing, "You should all agree that this is a very simple schedule." Max said the word schedule like "ske-jule."  
  
Steed spoke up with the inquiry, "Don't you mean schedule?" he pronounced the word like "she-dool" as all proper Englishmen did, not like the uncouth Americans who had massacred the language for two hundred years.  
  
"I think you're a bit dotty, Mr. Steed," was the only reply Steed received for his troubles. Max ignored the sputtering of the tall Brit as he added, "Does anybody have any objections to my plan?"  
  
"The only thing I object to is your faulty English," Steed retaliated.  
  
"But I don't speak English; I speak American!" Max protested.  
  
"Even that is up for debate," Emma wryly commented.  
  
"Just ignore them, Max," Mrs. Smart soothed her bristled husband.  
  
"You just follow Mrs. Smart's advice, Steed," Mrs. Peel told her own spouse.  
  
Dr. Gale tapped her foot impatiently as she nearly shouted, "I for one would like to save Tara King before I die of old age!" Martin agreed wholeheartedly with his fiancée.  
  
"All in favour of the 'ske-jule'" Steed began unconsciously, "I mean 'she-dool' signify by raising your hand and saying 'aye.'"  
  
"Can't we do one or the other?" Maxwell wanted to know.  
  
"You can, but then I will have to kill you," Steed snarled, loosing all control of his patience.  
  
"99, I think Mr. Steed just threatened me!" Mr. Smart cried in dismay as he hid behind his wife. It was at this unfortunate moment that everyone discovered that Max was at least two inches shorter than the slender and towering 99.  
  
"Would it be at all possible for us to conduct ourselves as mature adults?" Dr. King questioned irritably.  
  
"I'd hate to admit it, but I'm afraid the answer is no, at least for Steed and Smart," Cathy replied brusquely as she placed a piece of short golden blonde hair behind her ear, which had managed to escape when she had yelled at the whole assemblage a few minutes earlier.  
  
It was during this chaotic scene that Katie began wailing at the top of her tiny yet powerful lungs. Emma Steed gently pacified the distraught baby's sobs by rocking her. Katie glanced trustingly at her mother with large grey eyes that were just a shade darker than her father's. Emma felt love swell in her bosom that only a mother could possess for her child. She gingerly swept a wisp of dark trusses out of her daughter's face.  
  
99 beamed happily at the mother and child before she sighed, "I wish I had my two twins with me right now, but I guess it better for them to be with their grandmother."  
  
"Yes, the less danger you place them in, the more likely they will grow up to be happy, healthy children." Emma tried not to look upset as she added, "If I could I would take Katie over to her grandparents' house as much as possible, but all of our intimate relatives are dead."  
  
"She seems to be doing fine, Mrs. Steed," 99 assured the worried Englishwoman.   
  
As Emma Peel and Mrs. Smart turned to the all-important conversation of motherhood, Catherine and the men began the grueling procedure of choosing which ally headquarters to make up residence in. "How many choices do we have?" Martin King asked.  
  
Max perused the map for several seconds before proclaiming, "There are six agencies and seventeen KAOS outposts."  
  
"It's no wonder chaos reigns supreme in the world," Mrs. Gale muttered inaudibly.  
  
"Where do you suppose Herr Siegfried is staying?" Steed queried Maxwell.  
  
"By using top-secret methods, I have come to the conclusion that Siegfried could be at any of these hideouts."  
  
"Incredible," Steed cried sarcastically, "how does he come up with these answers!"  
  
Agent 86, in defense of his intelligence, began to protest to an adamant John Steed. Upon hearing her husband's piteous objections, 99 joined the dispute. Cathy and Martin decided to ignore the deafening wrangle and began to make their own suppositions where Ludwig might be holding Miss King.   
  
Emma, once more trying to console her weeping child, sunk with defeat into the easy chair. It seemed rescuing Tara was going to be a lot more complicated than they had imagined.  
  
***************  
  
There was a disgruntled silence between Siegfried and Tara for ten minutes, and then a stooge entered the chamber with blankets, pillows, and two trays of food. Simply the aroma of food made Tara realise how ravenous she was. Her mouth salivated as the goon gingerly set the food on the decaying table. Siegfried grunted his approval before motioning for the thug to leave the premises.   
  
Ludwig lifted the lids of the two trays to reveal bratwurst, sauerkraut, and beer underneath one of them and bread, butter, and water under the other. Tara surmised that the meager portion of bread was meant for her. As Siegfried eagerly consumed his meal, Miss King crumbled the dry bread in her hands. She stared wistfully at the German feast on the other plate before hesitantly biting into her food. Hunger won over envy, and soon Tara had finished every scrap of bread and drank every sip of water. She tried to stop her stomach from growling in protestation, but it would not heed her.  
  
If she did not hurry, her captor would soon devour all his sustenance, and that would be the end of dinner. Quickly she devised a plan to get more to eat. In a weak voice, she moaned, "Oh, I think I'm going to faint!"  
  
Siegfried wiped beer foam from his mustache as he asked, "Vy vould you do a shtupid zing like zat?"  
  
"I have no control over my low blood pressure. If I don't eat protein, I get dizzy and pass out." Tara feigned a look of utter turmoil and added, "I hope you won't mind if I faint onto the floor." She rolled her eyes to the back of her head and toppled to the brown carpet.  
  
Conrad muttered something about a "dummkopf" as he hurried over to Miss King's side. He harshly picked up her "limp" body and carried her over to the cot where he deposited her. Then he spoke agitatedly into his walkie-talkie, "Oskar, bring in some more bratwurst for Miss-me.''  
  
The thug soon appeared with another sausage on a chipped plate for his boss. He gazed longingly at Miss King before Siegfried pushed him out the door and shut it. "Ven I vant you I vill call for you on ze valkie-talkie!'' Siegfried hollered.   
  
Tara pretended to revive. "I do apologise for fainting on you like that," she murmured weakly.  
  
In response, Siegfried glared at her and clattered the dish with the bratwurst with as much emphasis as anyone can possibly put into clanking a plate. He wiped his fork on his cloth napkin before tossing that on top of the meal.  
  
Tara eyed the germ-infested silverware with apprehension and disgust but made no comment on the unsanitary procedures of her captor. Seating herself at the table, she forced out her thanks before rabidly gulping down the sausage. Even though it had been fried in beer, nothing had ever tasted so good to Miss King as that pork and beef bratwurst. She felt she could have truly fainted from contentment. After finishing every scrap on her plate (which was also rather unclean), Tara leaned back in her chair in satisfaction.  
  
"Did your strength return to you, Fraulein?" Conrad asked dryly.  
  
"I can't believe it, but I'm almost fully recovered." Tara flashed her most innocent smile at the irascible German. She could tell that he had discovered he had been duped.  
  
"Shall I call for dessert?" Ludwig von Siegfried's look was one of annoyance but also of amusement. The pleasurable look quickly passed, and he had reverted to his old irritable self.  
  
Tara was about to make an equally sarcastic reply when there came a persistent scratch at the door. Siegfried cursed softly as he barked into his walkie-talkie for one of his men to open the door. After this request was met, a shaggy German Shepard pup bounded happily into the room. He gazed adoringly at Siegfried before yapping loudly.  
  
Conrad feigned indifference at his pet, but Tara's heart melted like the snow in spring. She cooed to the puppy, inviting him to come over to her. The dog hesitated, crept cautiously over to her, and sniffed her outstretched hand. When he was certain Miss King would not harm him, he licked her hand with delight.  
  
"What is this dear puppy's name?" Tara wanted to know as she knelt down next to the dog.  
  
Siegfried glanced at the endearing sight of Miss King and his pet and turned a befuddled head away. "He is called Ludwig or Luddy after me."  
  
"Are you a good boy, Luddy?" Tara asked in a saccharine voice as she ruffled the fur underneath the dog's neck. She tenderly kissed the pup before rising to face his master. "I didn't know your heart held room for an adorable creature such as Luddy!"  
  
"He is being trained to be a guard dog and an assassin. Zat is ze only reason I have him in my possession." Siegfried began pacing nervously. Ready for play, Luddy hopped in his namesake's path, and Ludwig von Siegfried kicked the unfortunate animal.  
  
"You may abuse me all you like, but I won't allow you to hurt any creature that isn't your own size and doesn't have your brains." Tara swooped the whimpering puppy into her arms, consoling it as best as she could.  
  
Conrad Siegfried turned an astonished and offended face towards her. "You . . . won't ALLOW ME TO HARM ZIS BEAST? Let me remind you, I am ze vone holding you as captive, not ze ozer vay around!"  
  
"Kindly refrain from raising your voice! I can hear just as well when you aren't shouting!" To accentuate her meaning, Miss King stomped her foot. "And I will do just as I darn well please, and I'd like to see you stop me." She glared at him once again, he returning the piercing gaze.  
  
"Be nice to ze dog, but remember vat he is being trained to be. Two years from now he won't even recall your kindness."  
  
"Two hours from now I might be dead," Tara retorted.   
  
"If you vant zat, it can easily be arranged." Siegfried roughly changed the subject by declaring, "It is time for bed."  
  
"Do you want me to sleep in my clothes?"  
  
"Didn't you bring any pyjamas in that suitcase of yours?"  
  
"Yes," Tara stuttered, "but where do you expect me to change into them, right here in the middle of the room?"  
  
"Vat is the matter vith zat?"  
  
"Other than the fact that you are standing in the middle of the room, nothing is the matter with that suggestion." Tara crossed her arms over her chest, and Siegfried followed her gesture.  
  
"I von't leave ze room because you might climb out ze vindow."  
  
"I refuse to get into my pyjamas while you are staring at me."  
  
"Vy vould I do a shtupid and disgusting zing like zat?" Conrad was turning scarlet with utter fury and agitation. He glanced about the room until his eyes rest on two nails that were protruding out of the wall, doubtless where a painting once hung before the building was abandoned and had started decaying. The cot stood right below the pegs. "I have a proposition for you, cutie. I vill hang one of ze blankets on zose two nails over zere, and you can undress behind it."  
  
This idea was immediately carried out, much to the infuriation of Siegfried and the bewilderment of Miss King. She did not understand why he was tolerating her foolish whims. All she wanted to accomplish by being a nag was to make him go insane. Tara had no intention to soften him, but it appeared that was exactly what she was doing without much effort!  
  
With her suitcase in hand, Tara stepped behind the makeshift curtain. She had to sit on the bed in order to be protected by the cover. Quickly she opened her valise and selected a baby pink pyjama set. She had just wriggled out of her skirt when little Luddy squirmed under the blanket and hopped onto the cot with her.   
  
Tara King suppressed a sigh as she told the pup, "No Luddy, you can't be back here when I'm undressing." She gently placed the German Shepard back on the floor. In response, Luddy yanked the plaid skirt right off the cot. He dragged it over to his master's feet as if it was a wonderful present.  
  
Siegfried spewed out several violent words in his native tongue, reprimanding the dog. Luddy merely yapped twice, evidently not alarmed by the strident tone in his master's voice. He pranced around the black boots of the former military man before chewing the toe of the left one. Conrad was about to strike the mischievous puppy but checked himself at the last moment.  
  
Tara was attired in her pyjama bottoms and was unbuttoning her shirt. It was then that Luddy decided to he wanted to see the kind lady that was hiding behind the strange curtain. He sunk his teeth into the blanket, tugging at it with all his strength.  
  
Tara shrieked as the blanket crumpled silently to the carpeted floor. Trying to conceal whatever might be showing, she clutched her unfastened shirt tightly.   
  
To say Siegfried was mortified by this uncouth behaviour performed by his pet would be an enormous understatement. If there was anything Conrad had not been prepared to encounter while watching his hostage it was the feeling of embarrassment and even manly curiosity. After all, Tara was attractive, even if she lacked the high intellect he possessed. Suddenly, Siegfried found himself at an unfair disadvantage. She was a woman and he was a man, both alone together in a room. If there was one thing that displeased Conrad Siegfried more than losing, it was meeting with an inconvenience of vast proportions.  
  
Siegfried tried to remain collected under the circumstances. Not even glancing at Miss King, he silently and sullenly threw the blanket back over the nails. Tara was undisturbed during the remainder of her dressing. When she emerged from her hiding place, she was clasping a dark green terrycloth robe around herself for protection. Tara packed her clothes in the suitcase while Conrad arranged several blankets and pillows on the floor.   
  
Tara wanted desperately to escape that evening, but she knew not how. All she knew was she couldn't possibly do anything if she was forced to sleep. Her only comfort was that if she did make a getaway she wouldn't freeze in her pyjamas, for it was midsummer. Somehow she had to keep awake and make certain Ludwig von Siegfried fell asleep instead of the other way around!  
  
"I vant you to go to sleep," Conrad declared. He switched off the lights, enclosing them all in darkness. He fumbled with his leather jacket before finally finding the zipper to take it off.  
  
Tara patted the spot next to her on the cot for Luddy to come sleep with her. The German Shepherd willingly obliged her, and the two snuggled under the covers. Tara didn't want to protest, but her bed was the filthiest thing she had ever slept on. She might have been sleeping on the ground outside, gazing at the stars. Miss Tara was suddenly very relieved she had kept her robe and her wig on to shield any bare part of her body from the grime.  
  
Miss King began the tedious task of staying awake by counting champagne bottles. When she reached two hundred, she gazed at Conrad. To her dismay he was very much awake, and his light eyes were penetrating her being. If all else fails, switch to Plan B, she told herself. Plan B happened to include driving Siegfried insane, something that Tara hadn't been doing a very good job of so far. She hoped to make her kidnapper so tired from her shenanigans that he would have no choice but to sleep.   
  
Miss King started her act by complaining, "This bed is too dirty for anything, especially sleeping in it."  
  
"Sleep on top of ze blankets."  
  
"If I'm sleeping on top of my covers, what do I have to keep me warm during the night?" Tara persisted in her most spoiled tone. It was a ridiculous thought since it was a balmy sixty outside let alone the seventy degrees it was inside.  
  
In response, Siegfried pitched her one of his own blankets. Tara realised he had an answer for whatever problem she threw at him. However, her ideas were all she had to work on.   
  
Miss King lay on top of the covers before wrapping herself in the coverlet Siegfried had procured for her. Cuddled next to her, Luddy cocked his head to the right as if he anticipated her next move. Tara feigned an exaggerated sneeze that was so obnoxious Luddy flew off the bed in shock. After mumbling her apologies, she repeated the procedure.  
  
After the third time in five minutes that Miss King sneezed loud enough to wake the dead, Siegfried demanded, "Vat is vrong vith you, Fraulein?"  
  
"This blanket you gave me is dusty," was the muffled reply.  
  
"Zen don't drown yourself in it like an idiot!" Siegfried rose to his feet to yank the coverlet off Tara's head. "Now be quiet, or you vill encounter ze wrath of my pistol!"  
  
Siegfried resumed his position on the floor, and it was evident that he was weary of Tara's tomfoolery. His eyelids sagged as he placed a hand to his temples. "Zere has to be an easier vay to get zose papers," he muttered to himself.  
  
Tara was about to put her next plan into action when she heard the gentle breathing of her captor. She waited a few moments before slipping out of the cot. Siegfried was sleeping near to the one window Tara could climb through. Cautiously, she weaved her way through the maze of tables, chairs, and Luddy. When she reached the reposing figure of Conrad, she held her breath and tiptoed past. Unfortunately, there was a crate stacked underneath the window, a crate she had never noticed before. As she reached the window her foot kicked the wooden box.  
  
In a flash Siegfried was on his feet, grasping her arm so tightly she couldn't feel it. "Vat do you think you're doing, girly?"  
  
"I-I was getting some fresh air. That dusty blanket really blocked my nose." Tara smiled feebly in an attempt to convince the German.  
  
Siegfried didn't believe the impetuous lady, but he did not inform her of this. He merely shoved her back in bed, moved the crate, and placed himself directly under the window. Conrad concentrated on the large moon outside in an effort to stay awake.  
  
In anxiety Tara cried, "This bed is too uncomfortable!"  
  
"Live vith it, cookie," Siegfried replied stoutly.  
  
But Tara King was determined not to live with such abominable sleeping conditions. She tossed and turned with all of her strength until Conrad shrilly commanded her to stop or be murdered in cold blood. "If you can deal with this disgusting, hard cot, you sleep in it!" Tara challenged him.  
  
Ludwig von Siegfried marched resolutely to the bed and shoved the unappreciative woman off it. Tara landed with a thud on the floor, blankets and pillows completely covering her. She sputtered as she found her way through the sea of cotton and polyester. Miss King crawled over to the window, but Siegfried had other plans.   
  
"You vill stay in ze middle of ze room, or you vill sleep in the cot."  
  
Tara begrudgingly moved her person and blankets to the centre of the room. She settled down to sleep, but she was ready to sneak out the window when the time came. One interminable hour passed then another. Tara estimated that it was well past midnight. She kept staring at Siegfried, who would stare back at her. Neither one dared sleep lest the other do something drastic during his or her slumber.  
  
It was at this time that Miss King began to loose her tranquillity. Sleep deprivation was taking its toll on the abused woman, making her highly emotional. Before she could control herself, one large tear fell from her eye followed by plenty more. She sniffed as quietly as she could, but the indomitable Conrad Siegfried heard her.   
  
"If you do not keep silent, I vill be forced to use physical violence." Conrad covered his head with his pillow, tapped his fingers on the cot in impatience, counted to ten, and hopped out of the cot. He rolled the sleeves up on his black turtleneck before taking Tara's neck in his hands. "No more noises, or I vill strangle you." But just as he said it, something in Miss King's liquid blue eyes melted his anger. True he was still frustrated and tired, but he no longer felt the need to vent his rage by strangling her.  
  
Tara sniffed once more before saying, "You're being awfully nice to me, and after I've treated you so horribly. I mean I've done nothing to make you like me, yet you haven't killed me. You truly have a heart, even if it is so tiny no one can see it unless using a magnify glass."  
  
"Is zere a point to zis speech?" Conrad arched one of his blond eyebrows in suspicion.  
  
Tara shook her head and shivered. A sudden chill travelled up her spine; something had happened. She couldn't place what it was she felt for this man, but it wasn't fear, hate or pity. Perhaps her feelings were a mixture of all three, confusing her in the worst way imaginable. "I'm cold and tired, and I'm going to bed. If you don't believe me feel for yourself." Tara thrust her hands into his and watched as he yelped from surprise but did not let go.   
  
Tara noticed this with some mystification and said lamely, "You have a very strong yet gentle grip; you must use this with your wife."  
"You are not my vife, nor vill you ever be." Siegfried waited for some cheeky reply, but none came. They gazed at each other in confusion.  
  
"What did you say again?" Tara asked in an almost inaudible whisper.  
  
"I . . . don't remember now, vich is most odd." Siegfried felt himself leaning toward her, and no matter how he fought against it he could not stop. Miss King's robe fell from her shoulders as she stared into her kidnapper's befuddled countenance. Before either realised what had just occurred, their lips met in an innocent kiss.   
  
Siegfried pulled back in distress as he cleared his throat. In his most despicable voice he demanded, "Are you trying to seduce me?"  
  
The idea repulsed Tara, but she had to admit she didn't know what she was trying to accomplish. True, she had learned to subdue her enemies by making them fall madly in love with her, but she most assuredly was not trying to seduce Conrad Siegfried! She did not want to become the next Mata Hari no matter how desperate the situation was. However, she had to keep her ruse up, so she replied provocatively, "No I'm not, but have you considered that you might be trying to seduce me?"  
  
Conrad's face scrunched up in utter uncertainty. He opened his mouth several times to speak, but he could only warble a few incoherent noises. He slowly crawled into the corner by the escape window while Tara clambered back into the cot.   
  
She didn't know what progress she was making, but she did know that Siegfried would not think of her in the same light again. He now was aware that she could be just as diabolically clever as he when she wanted.   
Tara was gloating over her small victory when she perceived Siegfried rummaging through the wooden crate. He seemed to find what he wanted, for he began fiddling with a slender object that Tara could not make out exactly. He dipped the end of the item in some liquid before he stepped over to the cot. In the dim light from the moon Tara saw the outline of a syringe. Siegfried harshly jabbed it into her arm, not heeding her cry of pain. In a few minutes, Tara fell into a dreamless sleep.  
  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
  
Author's Note: The content in this chapter is as racy as I will ever get. I abhor any fics with blatant sex in it and have no respect for people who write such filth. True, I will read stories where it is implied, but I will not read any story that has slash and/or sex. You have been warned. :| 


	6. Second Day

Second Day  
  
Tara King awoke to the feeling of a warm tongue lapping her hand. Cute Luddy was perched precariously on the cot, intent on rousing the beautiful woman who he trusted implicitly. Miss King's head pounded as if she was suffering from a hangover. In a way she was, for the sedative she had been given often left those side effects on its patients. She moaned audibly and rolled over on her side. This movement caused the German Shepherd to lunge off the bed onto the floor.  
  
Tara cautiously opened one of her long lashed eyes before managing to pry open the other one. She struggled to a sitting position and spotted Herr Siegfried staring sharply at her. She wondered if anyone had dropped dead at the sight of seeing Conrad Siegfried first thing in the morning.  
  
"Velcome back to ze real world, mein prisoner." Siegfried handed her a tin plate with crusty bread and a slice of cheese. "You vill need your sustenance if you are to survive zis capture."  
  
"It's very thoughtful of you," Tara began half caustically and half earnestly. She realised her wig was positioned at an oblique angle on her head. It was now the second wig in twenty-four hours to be ruined.   
  
She swallowed a piece of the dry bread and gazed reproachfully at a sneering Siegfried until he handed her a mug full of water that he had been hiding behind his back. Not only did she want to protest about the bland food, but she also wanted to complain about her unfair treatment from the previous evening. Tara found it most unnecessary to have been injected with a sedative, but she knew that objecting to Conrad's methods might infuriate him more. Instead she plucked up enough courage to say, "I want to apologise for my provocative behaviour last night. I was tired, cold, frightened, and-" she grappled for the right word.  
  
"Und a little desperate to escape, eh Fraulein?" Siegfried finished. "I have been down zat road before, zough I never tried your techniques."  
  
Tara was relieved that she didn't have to explain any further. "Thank you for being so understanding and not killing me yesterday after I acted so stupidly and perversely."  
  
Conrad Siegfried's face was filled with confusion. "I don't remember ze last time someone zanked me."  
  
Miss King finished eating, gave several remaining scraps to an expectant Luddy, and climbed out of bed. She tied the belt of her terry cloth robe tighter before announcing, "I'd like to wash up a bit if that's all right with you. Do you have a shower or a bathtub I could use?"  
  
"Ve have a vashroom on ze ozer side of ze building. I vill escort you zere right now." Siegfried clapped his two heels together and bowed curtly. Yesterday his voice would have been filled with malice, but today he just sounded like an impartial host.  
  
Tara King grabbed her suitcase before following her kidnapper out of the unlocked door. She felt every goon's eye upon her as she ventured down the corridors in nothing but pyjamas and a robe. Agent 69 tried not to blush at all the whispers and whistles emerging from the mouths of the henchmen.  
  
Ludwig von Siegfried ignored the clamour his thugs were making, but it was a difficult task. He came to a door and stopped, causing his captive to run into him. In a booming voice, he bellowed to the assemblage of KAOS men, "Miss King is taking a baz, so shtay avay from ze vashroom. After noting the leering from his thugs, he added critically, "Und I vill be guarding ze door, so get back to vork!" In a gentler tone, meaning not as loud and satirical, he addressed Tara. "You vill not be disturbed, Fraulein, not while I am alive and vell."  
  
For the first time Tara felt protected under the watch of Herr Siegfried-almost anyways.  
  
***************  
  
The Avengers and the Smarts were deciding what actions must be taken to rescue their comrade and fellow spy.   
  
"I do not want to travel to a foreign land and run the risk of being murdered right before my wedding!" Dr. King declared vehemently.  
  
"I don't wish that either," agreed his fiancée, "but if you are planning to go, Mrs. Steed, then I will gladly watch Katie." Catherine Gale enveloped her namesake in strong, dependable arms.  
  
"I will only be content if I am a part of the battle." Emma's brown eyes had that hungry look they always got right before she fought an enemy.  
  
"It appears, Steed, that you are stuck with Mr. Smart," Cathy observed wryly.  
  
John Steed tried in vain not to show his disappointment and alarm. He gulped several times before he managed to blurt out, "I suggest then that we leave immediately."  
  
"Splendid," began the enthusiastic Maxwell, "but where are we going?"  
  
"We are going to Germany, where do you think you imbecile?" barked Steed as he flailed his arms.  
  
"I know that," Max snorted, "but *where* in Germany?"  
  
Steed opened his mouth to respond but quickly shut it. Smart had outwitted him for once, something he hoped would not occur often. While he puzzled over that apparent imponderable, Emma spoke up.  
  
"Why don't we bring Herr Starker with us as a sort of tour guide? After all, which one of us can boast that he or she knows German?"  
  
The entire group, except Mrs. Smart, admitted that they were not acquainted with that language. "I know the language quite well," 99 began, "but we do need Starker, because he will more likely be able to tell us at which KAOS outpost Ziegfried is hiding."  
  
"Mrs. Peel, your brains are thoroughly needed on this trip," Steed congratulated his wife. "I suggest we pack lightly and head to the ministry to find this half-witted henchman!"  
  
"Don't tell me I have to leave one of my four suitcases behind!" Smart said.  
  
"I'm afraid you'll have to leave at least one of your suitcases, Max," his wife replied.  
  
"I asked you not to tell me that, 99," Max Smart whined. "Oh well, I guess it's on to Germany!" Agent 86 charged towards the door. Everyone groaned as he ran right into the wall, his nose making a frightful cracking sound. "99," his muffled voice murmured, "do you think the Steeds will mind painting their walls red?"  
  
"Don't tell me you got blood on my walls!" pleaded Steed in displeasure.  
  
"My nose splattered blood on your wall," Max answered, falling prey to his own trap.  
  
In unison, Steed, King, Peel and Gale chorused, "I ASKED YOU NOT TO TELL ME THAT!"  
  
****************  
  
Tara smoothed the miniskirt of her sky blue dress, removed fuzz from her long sleeve, and sighed. She was sitting at the wooden table that was situated in the middle of the room. After washing up, she had been led back to the room to do absolutely nothing except glower at Siegfried every few minutes. Miss King patted her ruined wig gingerly as she calculated how many pounds it would cost to repair it. After that monotonous meditation, she turned to the interesting thought of Conrad Siegfried.   
  
He had been most congenial this morning, more so than she could have imagined, but despite his hospitable behaviour, Tara still longed to escape immediately. There appeared to be no way to wear down the unconquerable Ludwig von Siegfried. He had an iron will, but fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on which person, so did Tara King.   
  
While the minutes ticked by relentlessly, Tara began to weigh the pros and cons of her captor. His good characteristics were that he was extremely intelligent, authoritative, and strong. He also had not murdered her in cold blood though the opportunity had presented itself more than once. Miss King got no further than rattling off his redeemable qualities, for her mind wandered once again. How could Siegfried live a life of violence and crime when he had such gifts? This question had to be spoken aloud, which Tara did accordingly.  
  
"Siegfried, have you ever thought using your talents for the good of the world?" she asked timidly. "Think of all the people you could help and save!"  
  
"People? PEOPLE!" shrieked the temperamental German, much to the anxiety of Tara. "Ven have people ever showed me any compassion? From ze very beginning of my life, I have never been treated with the decency everybody deserves. Ever since Vorld Var I ze Americans have been suspicious of Germans, so it vas only natural zat zey hate my family. Ven I vas a child, I lived in a Suburb in America vhere our neighbours despised ze very ground ve valked upon. If ve merely said hello, ze whole neighbourhood panicked zat ve vere going to shtart Vorld Var II." Siegfried gazed bitterly at Miss King, as he demanded, "Do you know vhat it is like to be scorned by all just because of your nationality?"  
  
Tara swallowed around the lump in her throat, causing her silk, multicoloured scarf to bob up and down slowly. "I had no idea your childhood was that unpleasant."  
  
"To make matters vorse, my mozer disappointed me ven she refused to by a sled for me for Christmas. All I vanted vas a bobsled to go sliding down ze hills, but she never gave me vone."  
  
"Where did you live during your early years?" Tara King asked politely.  
  
"I vas born in Souz America and vas raised in Florida."  
  
Tara decided not to explain to him the impracticality of using a sled in a warm area such as Florida. Instead, she proclaimed, "We all suffer disappointment in our lives, but it's how we deal with it that makes us stronger." Leaning back in her chair, she recalled an event from her own childhood.  
  
"I grew up on a farm where there was always plenty to do. My family wasn't the richest, but we didn't care. Every summer we used to visit London; that was the best time for me. I think I always was a city girl at heart, even when I was in braids and had scads of freckles all over my face."  
  
"I vould have liked to see you in braids," Siegfried teased her in his solemn manner.  
  
Tara laughed giddily before she said, "One summer when I was about twelve, I saw the most gorgeous dress in Harrods's. It was meant for the fashionable woman, not a tall, gangly youth like me, but I wanted it so badly."  
  
"Vhat colour vas zis silly frock?"  
  
"I believe it was pink, which was all the rage that particular summer. It had a full skirt that bellowed out and long, gauzy sleeves. Anyway, my birthday was June 18th, so I was certain if I hinted about the gown to my mother she would buy it. My birthday came and went, and naturally I did not get that dress. I was positive it was the end of civilisation, but I lived to purchase many pink gowns for myself." Miss King toyed with her scarf, declaring, "When we are young we want so many impractical things, but we learn later that we did not need those things as badly as we had professed."   
  
Siegfried seemed to be mulling over her tale, but he quickly declared, "Not getting a sled for Christmas vas not ze main reason for my rebellion. Ven I vas in my teens, Vorld Var II officially began and zen came all ze nicknames. I would valk to ze drugstore for a soda only to be bombarded by unruly kids calling me a 'Kraut' and a 'Nazi.' My mozer told me to ignore zem, but how can you vhen you are at that critical stage vhere you vant to be accepted?  
  
"I began to dream of becoming a Nazi just so I could have ze pleasure of blowing up all zose prejudiced children. I informed my mozer of my plans, but she begged me not to betray my country. I was torn between love and devotion for her and hate and embitterment toward my fellowman. Zen came the moment that decided it all for me: I vatched my fazer as he was murdered by an American spy. It became apparent after his deaz zat Dad vas in league vith enemy agents, but ze blow vas shtill hard for me. I undershtood vy my mozer hadn't vanted me to be a Nazi; vone traitor in the family vas enough." Siegfried's eyes were hollow, not revealing the acute pain and grief that he obviously felt inside himself.  
  
He cleared his throat and commenced his dialogue, "I remember ze glistening of ze sword zat killed him. I vas filled vith such anger zat I ran blindly at the despicable spy, using profanity and curse words zat a normal, happy child should have no knowledge of. Ze next zing I knew, he was using his sword on me in self-defense. As a reward for my shtupidity, the spy slashed my left cheek-a scar I still have today.  
  
"That cut made the vocation of my life perfectly clear. I vould join ze Nazis and seek revenge on anyone who had ever hurt me."  
  
"But the Nazis murdered thousands of innocent people!" Tara protested. "There were many who died in that war who had no prejudice against ethnic groups like Germans and Jews and whomever else."  
  
"I vas filled vith vengeance, not concerned vith triviality."  
  
Miss King was about to inform him that the human race was not a triviality, but she decided against it.  
  
Conrad stared at his brawny hands before he began his melancholy story once again. "In ze Var, I vas taken prisoner in El Alamein, but I escaped vith an inept soldier by ze name of Herr Shtarker. He owes his life to me, vich is vy I keep him around. I vent to Souz America for a while, but zen returned to America vere I joined KAOS. After I became ze Vice President of Public Relations and Terrorism, I met up vith Shtarker again, who immediately became my right-hand-man.  
  
"Don't you see vy I have to perform all zis mayhem? I vas treated terribly all my life, so now it's time someone else pays!"  
  
"Even if you were physically abused as a child, that gives you no right to mistreat your fellowman!" Tara began adamantly. She softened as she added, "You evidently don't understand the concept of love."  
  
"If everybody loved me, I vould try my best to feel affection for zem."  
  
"No, you don't understand the type of love I'm referring to. I'm talking of an unconditional love, where you care for a person no matter what pain and misery they cause you." Tara's haunting blue eyes pierced Conrad's hardened heart as she finished, "When you love a person completely and wholeheartedly, you will forgive them no matter what."  
  
Siegfried always found away to avoid the comments that were directed at him. "I suppose zis is how you feel about your Shteed?"  
  
"How did you know about my infatuation?"   
  
"Ve KAOS agents are vell avare of our enemies shortcomings, Fraulein."  
  
Miss King softened as she responded, "I thought I loved Steed that way, but lately I've found myself searching for something more fulfilling-an attachment to a man that is more than just a bunch of superficial emotions."  
  
"I suppose falling in love vith a hardened criminal is not part of your agenda." Siegfried was mocking her in order to make himself feel important and confident; when in reality, he was sorely bewildered.  
  
"You needn't worry," Tara began haughtily, "because there is no possible chance of me falling in-in love with . . ." her voice trailed off as she stared at his hazel eyes. "Why, Siegfried, you have brown eyes, not blue!"  
  
"Vatever gave you ze notion zat I had blue eyes, girly?"  
  
"I guess I just assumed you were like those stereotypical Germans from the movies with the blond hair and blue eyes."  
  
"It's amazing how incredibly shtupid you can be sometimes, cutie."  
  
"At least you still admit that I'm cute," Tara countered playfully.  
  
Herr Siegfried and Miss King both inwardly breathed a sigh of relief at having broken the awkwardness that seemed to be a reoccurring affair. Being a spy had its advantages-like hiding your feelings even when the rest of you didn't want to.  
  
**************  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Steed and Mr. and Mrs. Smart exited the German airport terminal with Herr Starker in tow. He blinked stupidly as he gazed at his motherland for the first time in two days. "I finally vill be home shveet home!" he pronounced.  
  
"I say good riddance," muttered Max to his wife.  
  
"But, dear, we can't let Shtarker go as soon as he reaches his destination," Mrs. Smart reminded him. "He is a criminal who needs to be tried and convicted according to our American laws."   
  
Agent 86 deliberated over this information before asking, "Is banishment to a foreign country considered good punishment for a KAOS agent?" Agent 99 gave him her most sincere aggravated look, which was not lost on the inept spy.  
  
"Mr. Starker," began Emma, "Is there a restaurant nearby where we can eat? That meal on the plane was unpalatable."  
  
"I thought it tasted a bit like chewy steak when you got passed the glue," Maxwell Smart declared.  
  
99 fought out the words, "Max, the entrée was supposed to be chicken with cream of mushroom sauce."  
  
"But the meat was pitched-black!" Mr. Smart protested. Nobody had the heart or stomach to explain to him that the chicken had been scorched beyond edibility.   
  
"Since Germany is so well known for its sausage, why don't you take us to a hotdog stand?" 99 suggested to Starker.  
  
"You Americans and Germans actually eat man's best friend?" Steed cried, utterly appalled. "I know cat is a rare delicacy in China, but I draw the line at eating dogs!"  
  
"Steed, a 'hotdog,' is what Americans call a 'frankfurter'" Emma Peel informed the repulsed Englishman.  
  
"Well, I certainly could go for a banger right about now," said Steed. He placed a strong hand on Herr Starker's shoulder. "Lead on, my good man."  
  
"Is a banger some sort of gun?" enquired the German politely.  
  
"It's what we Englishmen call a 'hotdog,'" Steed barked.  
  
"Don't you mean a 'banger,' Steed?" Mrs. Steed reminded him.  
  
"I think the correct word you would use when speaking to a German would be 'frankfurter,'" Max interjected in an attempt to help.  
  
"Wait a minute; I'm trying to think!" snapped John Steed as he raised a hand to his temple.  
  
"Don't tell me you have one of chief's headaches, Mr. Steed?" Maxwell asked in alarm.  
  
"Steed, if you answer him, I'm filing for a divorce!" warned Mrs. Peel dryly.  
  
Starker watched the quibbling agents with utmost interest. "Zese Americans and Englishmen certainly are a shtrange lot."  
  
An hour and a half later, the Avengers, Smarts, and Herr Starker had eaten and checked into a motel "zat all KAOS agents shtay vhen zey are in town."  
  
After examining his vermin infested room, Steed asked sarcastically, "Shall I call for room service to send Rover up? Perhaps he can remove some of the fleas from the bed."  
  
Emma chafed her arms that were underneath a forest green business coat. Her green and cream coloured checked skirt waved as she gently rocked back and forth on her heelless shoes. "Perhaps we ought to leave for the KAOS headquarters and have done with this whole scheme."  
  
"You do remember the complicated plan we discussed on the plane?" Steed asked as he placed two loving hands on her arms.   
  
"We will pretend to hand over the papers. After they shoot a heavily bulletproofed Maxwell Smart, we fight off the villainous scoundrels and rescue Tara. Then we take all into custody and live happily ever after."  
  
"You make it sound so incredibly easy, my dear." Steed grinned in his flippant yet charming way.  
  
"It should go off without a hitch, unless-"  
  
"Unless Mr. Smart forgets to put on his chain mail and doesn't remember the plans?" completed John Steed.  
  
Emma grimaced at the thought of an extremely dead Maxwell Smart. "I just hope the Smarts are insured."  
  
"I don't think life insurance covers murder, but maybe CONTROL has a special coverage for deaths on duty." Mr. Steed clapped his hands together before he exclaimed, "Oh well; shall we see what the American spies are up to?"  
  
"Perhaps they've found Rover for us." Emma Steed exited the grisly motel room before her husband.  
To Be Continued!  
  
Thanks for all the reviews. Please Keep them coming! 


	7. Second Afternoon

Second Afternoon  
  
Tara King finished her lunch of Wiener schnitzel, the cook's specialty of lightly breaded veal. "Wiener schnitzel is definitely something I could get used to."  
  
Herr Siegfried looked up from polishing his automatic pistol. "It's a good zing you like it, girly, for our chef only knows how to cook two items: sausage and viener schnitzel. I zink ve're having garlic bratwurst on a fresh bed of lettuce for dinner tonight."  
  
"I thought that's what we had yesterday."  
  
"No, zat vas bratwurst fried in beer served vith sauerkraut. Ze subtle differences are enough to keep the goons satisfied."  
  
"And do you enjoy this monotonous menu?"  
  
"No, but because I don't eat regularly, I have gained no pounds from ze beer und fat."  
  
"I'm often surprised at men's disgusting ad unhealthy eating habits." Tara swung her scarf over her shoulder with an affected flair. "Tonight you will be treated to Steed's special omelette, prepared by that delectable gourmet chef, Tara King."  
  
"Zank you, but I gave up eating chefs for Lent," he said sarcastically. Tara glared at him as he continued, "Besides, I can't let you in ze kitchen. You might poison everybody."  
  
Miss King glared at him in impatience. "How could I get hold of any poison? Do you keep it in your kitchen for any thug to use?"  
  
Conrad flushed embarrassedly before he answered, "Vell, you have to keep ze arsenic shomevhere, you know."  
  
Tara King was about to reply when the urgent voice of a henchman came over the walkie-talkie. "Siegfried, Maxvell Shmart and ze whole gang are here!"  
  
Ludwig von Siegfried rose to his feet and sprang to the door. "I guess ve'll have to postpone zat omelette for anozer day, cookie! If all goes according to my plan, you shall be back vith your friends in no time!" He waited for one of his thugs to unlock the door and then he bolted out like a racer competing in the 100-yard dash.  
  
Miss King hurried over to the door to make her exit, but the same hooligan that had let Siegfried out, locked her in! She rammed her whole side into the heavy door, but nothing budged. "Siegfried, let me out zis instant, or you vill face ze consequences!" She stepped back from the door in shock. "I'm even beginning to sound like him!"  
  
Maxwell Smart, 99, Emma Peel, John Steed, and Starker approached the eager Herr Siegfried. "Goot, you've brought my vorthless minion. Shtarker, come over here, dommkopf!"  
  
Starker complied the discourteous command and asked, "May I visit Fraulein Tara now?"  
  
"Yah, und bring her out here so ve can make ze shwap of credentials for a King." Conrad turned a stony face on his enemies, as he demanded, "Vhere are ze papers, you bunch of sissies?"  
  
Max reluctantly procured a folder from his jacket pocket and handed it to the impatient German. Emma leaned over to whisper in Steed's noble British ear. "If the real documents are still at your flat as we devised, what is that file in Max's hand?"  
  
"I slipped two pieces of paper into that folder, one with the recipe for my famous national anthem and one with the recipe for my delicious omelette. I figured the omelette recipe was most befitting since we've just laid an enormous egg."  
  
Emma stifled a jubilant chuckle at the actions of her devious husband. As she did, Siegfried swiped a gun from his black leather jacket and pointed it at Max.   
  
"Zis is vhere you die a shlow, excruciating deaz, Shmart!" he crowed arrogantly.  
  
"Don't you dare hurt him, you KILLER!" screeched Agent 99 as she lunged at him. She struggled with him as planned, making certain that his revolver was not aimed at Max's head where no bulletproof protection had been placed. Siegfried fired his gun into Smart's chest, and he fell to the ground from the impact. A blood capsule burst open, finishing the "murder" with an authentic touch.  
  
Mrs. Smart began her fake wailing much to the glee of Siegfried. He hollered for three goons, who immediately marched up to his side. "Make sure zat Shmart is truly dead."  
  
The Avengers had not expected this to happen. They naturally assumed Siegfried would be content with watching Max fall to the ground and start to bleed. "May I say goodbye to my husband first?" 99 quickly asked.  
  
Siegfried muttered unpronounceable German words under his breath, but did not stop Mrs. Smart from embracing her "dead" husband. Instead, he rolled his eyes to the back of his head. However, with his eyes off the gun in his hand, he was unprepared for the karate chop Mrs. Peel used on his arm that sent his weapon sailing into Steed's awaiting bowler.   
  
With the pistol still inside, Steed placed his hat back in his head. He then nonchalantly threw his grey umbrella in front of the legs of a fleeing thug. The heavy brute flipped onto his back, spattering mud and grass everywhere-including Steed's suit. With a pretentious air, Steed removed a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped his suit off. When he noticed that the goon was rising to his feet, Mr. Steed seized him by the collar and punched him three times in the chin. His opponent didn't even have time to react or defend himself.  
  
Meanwhile, Emma was trying to drag Siegfried to the ground by grabbing hold of his leather jacket. To her disappointment, one of his KAOS patches ripped off in her hands. Siegfried swiped at her, but she ducked and kicked him in the shins. Having very scrawny limbs and being rather a weakling, the impact of the blow was too much for Conrad Siegfried. He began howling and jumping up and down on his uninjured leg as if he had just had his foot amputated. Emma gazed at him strangely before she turned to one of the other minions.  
  
Mrs. Smart had naturally abandoned her "dead" husband to pursue one of the three hooligans. Her opposition was heading to an alarm box tacked on the outside wall. The German ruffian had the head start and would soon set off the alarm, summoning more enemy agents! 99 sprang toward the goon, taking a dive for his legs. She managed to wrap her arms around them and drag him to the ground with one rapid motion.   
  
The two adversaries wrestled on the grass for a moment before Mrs. Smart managed to kick him in the head. The bully retaliated by pulling on her long, brown locks. To his astonishment, the hair came off her head easily, revealing shorter brunette tresses on the female spy. She, like Miss King, wore wigs! While the German was recovering from the shock, Mrs. Smart snatched the hair from his hands and started choking him with it. When she was certain the goon was unconscious, Mrs. Smart stood up, wiping her light blue denim pants in case there was any stains.  
  
Siegfried watched as the opposition beat his minions mercilessly. Now weaponless, Ludwig von Siegfried feared for his life and freedom. Being the coward that he was, he scurried indoors when no one was watching.  
  
At the same time Mrs. 99 was finishing off her foe, Emma Steed was fighting her second German. This goon was the most brawny of the three, but this posed no threat for Emma. She dodged every one of his attacks, which, fortunately, were very clumsy since he was so large. The man protested angrily in his native tongue as the spry woman slipped through his grip.   
  
Mrs. Peel crouched low, so the heavyset man would have to stoop over to assault her. As he bent over, she jumped onto his back. She kept back a growl as the hapless ruffian spun around, flailing is arms every which way. He soon became so incredibly woozy that he bumped straight into Steed. John Steed smiled gregariously before socking him in the jawbone. Emma applied pressure to his neck until the goon fell onto the ground, knocked out cold. Staggering a bit, she climbed off his back with the help of her husband.  
  
"I think you got a wee bit dizzy yourself up there," Steed declared, mirth in his eyes.  
  
"I'll recover," Emma informed him coolly, but also with a glimmer in her brown eyes.  
  
Max bolted up suddenly with the question, "Where did Siegfried go?"  
  
The four spies exchanged weary glances as they realised their nemesis had escaped into the hideout. "Let's go after him; he couldn't have gone far," Steed said.   
  
"And run the risk of being murdered by blood-thirsty goons?" Max cried.  
  
"Why don't stake out all four sides of the building and wait until Siegfried comes out from somewhere?" Mrs. Smart suggested. The plan was immediately carried out.   
  
In the hideaway, Siegfried practically flew to the room where Tara was being held prisoner. Once there, he noticed that Starker was conversing animatedly with an extremely uninterested Tara. "It vas an ambushed, Shtarker! Prepare to leave zrough ze emergency exit!"  
  
"You have an emergency exit in this dump?" Tara asked incredulously.  
  
Siegfried merely glared at her as he ordered his men, via the walkie-talkie, to distract the Smarts and Steeds. He snatched Tara's suitcase in one hand, clutched her arm in the other, and dragged her out of the room with her crying, "Where are you taking me, you big baboon?"   
  
"Somevhere zey'll never find me: England." Siegfried stepped through an open window then helped Tara climb out. Shtarker managed to squeeze through the small opening as well. Conrad pulled out a box of matches and lit one. He tossed it inside the unsafe building, where it slowly burst into flames.  
  
"What are you doing?" Tara King shrieked. "Didn't you see that gasoline can sitting near the window?" She tripped on her high heals and nearly fell down.  
  
"Zis is all part of my escape plan, cookie. Right now I'm destroying all ze evidence. Shtarker, help me carry Miss King and her suitcase to safety. She vill be blown up if ve don't, and I shtill vant her for bait."   
  
Siegfried expected his goon to carry Tara, but he took the suitcase instead. With no other option, Conrad hefted Tara in his arms and ran to shelter just as the hideout exploded into large, menacing flames.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	8. Second Night

Second Night  
  
From a safe distance Siegfried and Starker watched their hideaway crumble to the ground. Then, the two stared at each other's soot-filled faces and started to laugh jubilantly. "Shtarker," Siegfried shouted as he dropped Tara to the grass, "Ve're alive, ve made it!" He clasped his minion's brawny arms, and they circled Miss King in a victory dance.  
  
"I hate to throw a wet blanket over your happiness," Tara said sarcastically, "but you're plan will be in vain if any of my friends were killed by that fire. The remaining spies will most definitely refuse to give you the papers after the heartache you caused them."  
  
"So vhat you're saying, is zey vould just let you die along vith whoever was consumed by ze flames?" Siegfried asked. "I don't zink zey're zat selfish and inconsiderate."  
  
Tara crossed her arms defiantly before replying, "We'll just see, Herr Siegfried; we'll just have to wait and see."  
  
Starker had been spacing until the sight of a very alive Maxwell Smart alerted him. "Boss, Mazvell Shmart isn't dead!"  
  
Siegfried glared at Starker, as if he were insane, but when he spotted his archenemy, he cursed perceptibly. "Vell, I'm certainly glad I kept you, cutie, because I'm going to have to exchange you for Shmart, again."  
  
Just then, a completely black animal limped over to them. "Oh, Luddy was injured in the fire!" Tara nearly sobbed. She tightly hugged the abused puppy, glad that at least Mr. Smart and the dog were safe.  
  
Tara King needn't have worried for her allies, for the Steeds were in the company of Maxwell Smart, the luckiest man alive. Max had blown up his own honeymoon boat while still on it and had lived to tell the tale, so a building fire was insignificant in comparison. And even though Smart had tripped on his own feet as he had tried to escape the fire, he had managed to make it to safety before the first explosion.   
  
Unfortunately, several of Siegfried's own men died in the fire-a fire he had created. Once the foursome spotted the first dead body, they meekly and reverently bowed their heads. "How sad to think that man could have been one of us," Agent 99 murmured.  
  
"Yes," Max agreed, "if only Ziegfried had used his amazing ability to create special affects for goodness and niceness instead of evil."  
  
"You called that 'special effects'!" cried Steed disbelievingly.   
  
"It's no reason to get irate," Emma chided him. "I suggest we go back to our hotels, change, and get some supper. I can tell that Steed is in urgent need of champers."  
  
"I could use some vittles of my own," Max declared, "but I refuse to call my food, champers."  
  
Steed decided against being patient as he retorted, "Champers is short for champagne, you ignoramus!"  
  
"99, did Mr. Steed just insult me, or compliment me?" Max gazed vapidly at his wife, who declined to answer.  
  
****************  
  
It was late when Tara and her captors' arrived in England, but none of them was tired. They returned to the first abandoned warehouse, where Miss King let Luddy roam around. Since there was no furniture in the building except in a room that must have been the manager's office, the three people quickly situated themselves in there.  
  
Conrad took charge of the leather swivel chair and propped his feet, still in their large army boots, up on the desk. He removed the file he had received from Mr. Smart, childishly kissed it, and poured over its contents. It took only a second for Starker and Miss King to realise something was terribly amiss.  
  
"I have been duped!" Siegfried hopped out of his seat, the chair bobbing back and forth from the abrupt movement. He cast the manila folder onto the dusty desk before bellowing maledictions that made Herr Shtarker blush in shame.   
  
Curious, Tara browsed the forgotten documents and burst out giggling. "Steed gave you his recipes, how clever!" Soon she was sniggering uncontrollably, large tears streaming down her face. Conrad Siegfried had stopped his tirade to stare bewilderedly at the hysterical girl. Starker, who was easily influenced, joined Tara's merriment. The two sunk onto a decaying sofa in order to keep from rolling on the floor.  
  
Ludwig von Siegfried had many faults, but none so appalling as his short temper. His fiery outbursts were what caused him to commit many grave felonies. Upon witnessing his two companions laughing at him, he ordered shrilly, "Shut up zis instant, or I vill shtrangle you boz vith my bare hands!"  
  
Tara dutifully obeyed, but Shtarker continued his chuckling. Siegfried's eyes bore down on his thug, and Miss King hastily smacked the slow man to silence him. This time, Starker clamped his mouth shut, but his whole body still writhed with subdued laughter. In no time, he was snickering again; it was contagious, and soon Tara King was howling with delight.  
  
Abashed, Ludwig von Siegfried stormed out of the room, muttering something about "revenge." When Tara noticed how upset her captor was, she immediately stopped her laughing. However, she feared the damage was already done. Conrad Siegfried was determined to avenge his embarrassment if it killed him in the process.  
  
Starker was full with glee at the prospect of being alone with Miss King. He casually wrapped an arm around the voluptuous Britt. "I have been vaiting for zis moment since I first laid eyes on you."  
  
Tara shrugged the strong man's arm off, but the arm quickly found it's way around her again. "Starker, this may come as a relative shock, but I have no interest in you at all!"  
  
"You are just playing hard to get, mein lieb, but zat can be expected from a beauteous and intelligent voman like you!" Starker leaned forward for a kiss but found nothing but air, since Tara had jumped up from the couch.   
  
She headed for the door, but the incorrigible goon grabbed onto her multi-coloured scarf. She nearly gagged as she was pulled backwards into his arms. Tara King had known many suitors in her young life, but she had never predicted that an enemy agent would be smitten with her. As she struggled against Starker's hold, the impetuous thug began to sing a melody that she was quite familiar with. It was an old tune that Emma Peel had told her had been a favourite of a demented traitor, Max Prendergast.   
  
Jedesmal, wenn ich wach bin, denk ich an dich  
Meine Liebe, meine schöne Rose  
Ich denk an dein Lächeln  
Ich denk an deine Augen  
Ich denk an die schönen Stunden.  
  
Jedesmal, wenn wir küssen, bin ich hilflos  
Meine Liebe, meine schöne Rose  
Hilflos in deinen Armen  
Hilflos bei deinem Charme (?)  
Hilflos in deiner Nähe.  
  
Ich bin ganz verliebt, ich liebe dich  
Ich bin Sklave deiner Wünsche  
Im Traum erscheinst du mir  
Junge, zarte Rose.  
  
Tara groaned as Starker finished the song, completely out of tune. He then twirled her around in order to plant an amorous kiss on her lips, but she evaded his mouth. With all her strength, she broke free from his grasp and fled to the other side of the room. Starker began to follow, but she circled the desk to the other side. Now they were opposite each other once more. They repeated this process four times, Starker shouting declarations of love, Miss King yelling words of desperation.  
  
From inadequate nourishment, Tara was growing exhausted. She rounded the corner of the desk for the fifth time when she heard heavy footsteps advancing toward the room. In a moment, Siegfried was in the doorway glaring at his right-hand man.   
  
In desperation, Tara flew to his side, shrieking, "Siegfried, save me from this madman!" She nestled herself into his outstretched arm and wrapped her own arms around his neck, as if holding on to him would anchor her down.  
  
"Vhat is ze meaning of zis, Shtarker?" Conrad's voice commanded attention.  
  
"I vas merely telling Fraulein King how much I love her-"  
  
"Zis is KAOS," screeched Siegfried, "ve don't love here!"  
  
"Actually, you can only love yourselves," Tara caustically interjected. Conrad stiffened at this cheeky retort, but he made no attempt to remove her arms from his neck.  
  
After Ludwig spoke loudly in German, Starker reluctantly exited the room. Miss King slowly unwrapped herself from Siegfried and said, "I'm sorry for flying at you like that, but I wasn't thinking clearly." She added softly, "I'm sure your wife would be enraged if she knew a young woman like me was-"  
  
Conrad interrupted her in a strange tone, "I have no wife; I made her up so I vould never have any silly KAOS girls trying to date me."  
  
Tara felt as peculiar as Ludwig sounded, but she only answered, "You certainly have an eccentric way of doing things, Herr Siegfried." Suddenly, her stomach growled noisily, causing her to blush and Siegfried to raise an eyebrow. She pointed to the folder as she began, "Listen, it's a shame to let those recipes go to waste. Is it at all possible to make that special omelette I promised you?"  
  
"Vell, zere is a shmall kitchen that I inshtalled in case I had to live here for a while, but I don't know vhat kind of food is in ze fridge."  
  
Clutching the file in one hand and Siegfried in the other, Tara declared, "We'll improvise, OK?"  
  
As Tara and Siegfried exited the office, Starker spotted his "love" holding hands with his boss, and jealousy gripped him. Why didn't she ever hold his hands affectionately? Starker disregarded the fact that Tara was dragging Siegfried to the kitchen, he protesting wildly while she tried to hush him. He entirely dismissed the idea that perhaps she was merely leading Conrad somewhere; all he saw was Tara clutching his boss.  
  
Love had that effect on the dim-witted German. While some, like Emma Steed, were able to tolerate their significant other's flirting with member's of the opposite sex, Starker wanted Tara to pay attention only to him.  
  
In a vindictive frame of mind, he called up the German motel he had recommended to the Steeds and Smarts. He had made up his mind to tell them that Siegfried was plotting a gruesome revenge, and if they had any common sense, they would not make any more negotiations with him. If the spies believed Starker, they would most assuredly not give Siegfried the papers, thus there would be nothing to trade for Tara. Then Starker would love and nurture her, making her fall madly in love with him.  
  
It was a juvenile idea, but it was running through the simpleton's brain as he hurriedly phoned the sleazy motel. To his disheartenment, the Avengers and Smarts had checked out. His discouragement was assuaged in the next second when the desk clerk informed him they had left a message saying that if Siegfried called, he should phone them in England the next day.   
  
Giddily, Starker hung up the phone. Soon he would be able to carry out his ingenious-to him-plan. He would avenger himself for Siegfried's mistreatment; Ludwig von Siegfried had taught his crony well.  
  
In the fairly new kitchen, Tara was humming softly as she scoured the room for the right ingredients for Steed's omelette. Halfway through these procedures, she kicked off her stiletto-heeled shoes. Siegfried's eyes were drawn like a magnet to her shoes and then her nylons. He noticed a large run in them and wondered why he had allowed his prisoner to dress sophisticatedly.  
  
He gazed at her long legs, realising for the first time how muscular they were. "Did you find the legs-I mean-eggs?" he stuttered.  
  
Miss King turned from the icebox and gazed him bemusedly, but she nodded her head. "I think I found enough of the ingredients to make the omelette palatable. Now watch what I do, so you can make this meal on your own after I've gone." Agent King advanced toward the counter with the last several items, but she was staring so intently at the counter that she did not see her shoes in the middle of the floor. She stumbled, flailing her arms to balance and keep the food in her hands.   
  
Siegfried muttered German words that most likely could be translated as, "clumsy oaf." He nimbly grabbed her by the waist, saving her from collapsing ungracefully. It was bizarre, but he had been told Miss King was a "chubby;" however, he found her waist toned but still extremely curvy.   
  
Tara murmured her thanks before mixing several of the dry ingredients in a metal bowl. "One of the most important steps to becoming a great culinary chef is to not waste any food."  
  
Ludwig was extremely perplexed as he repeated, "Vhat does a vaist have to do vith cooking?"  
  
Miss King stifled a laugh before she asked, "Were you referring to a human's waist?" She wrapped her hands around his waist to indicate what she meant.  
  
Siegfried peevishly yanked her hands off. "Your hands should stick to caressing-nein, nein-I meant to say cooking!" Siegfried swirled around so she wouldn't see him flush, but his neck was red, which defeated the purpose.  
  
"You're getting a little confused!"   
  
"I'm more zan a little confused, shweetie!" Abruptly, Siegfried did something he had never done on his own free will before: he raised his hands in defeat. "Why must I do such menial tasks? You cook ze omelette on you own!" Agitated beyond his normal capacity, he fled from the room.  
  
Tara King, agent 69, wondered what had brought on the more than usually weird mannerisms. Face aflame-from the heat, she told herself-she prepared the meal in comparative tranquility.  
  
Conrad stormed past his goon, but Starker called to him, "Un, Siegfried, what is Shteed's phone number?"  
  
"Vhy; do you vant to ask Poppa Shteed for permission to marry his baby Tara?"  
  
"Do you zink he'd give it to me?"  
  
"Shtarker, I'm going to count to ten, unt if you are not on ze ozer side of ze building by zen, I vill zrow you zere, do you UNDERSHTAND?"  
  
Pitiful Starker, rant to the shelter of Tara King, where he at once spouted his trials and tribulations. Tara paid absolutely zero attention until he revealed that he had wanted to call Steed but hadn't the number. She jerked forward and demanded, "Why do you want to call him?"  
  
"To warn him zat Siegfried is planning to play unfairly after Shteed's little joke. Vhen Siegfried is zis infuriated, he vill kill anybody who gets in his vay!"  
  
"You've got to call Steed right now!" Tara cried, entirely forgetting that they might not be home yet. She sobered as she said, "If they decide not to bargain for my freedom, I will have to escape. If this happens, will you help me with my plans, Starker?" The thug glanced at her, love-starved, but he reluctantly nodded his head.   
  
Tara continued, "First, you phone them, while I distract Siegfried so he doesn't figure out that we're warning my friends."  
  
"How vill you do zat, my darling Tara lieb?"  
  
An exultant smile played upon her rose lips. "He'll be too distracted enjoying his delicious dinner."  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
English Translation for Mein Lieb, Mein Rose   
  
Every time I'm awake, I think of you  
My love, my beautiful rose  
I think of your smile  
I think of your eyes  
I think of those happy hours.   
  
Every time we kiss, I'm helpless  
My love, my beautiful rose  
Helpless in your arms  
Helpless of your charms  
Helpless when you're near.   
  
I'm so in love, I love you  
I'm the slave of your desires  
You appear in my dreams  
Young and tender rose.   
  
With thanks to Holger Schmitz and David K. Smith.   
  



	9. Second Early Morning

Second Early Morning  
  
The first thing Miss King did was to locate Herr Siegfried. He was in the chamber where she had been tortured yesterday, muttering softly to himself about the injustice of doing servant's work when he was a great diabolical mastermind. He gave his most evil glare to her, which had no effect. In fact, that ninny had the audacity to smile at him.  
  
"You're suppose to cower vhen I glare at you!" he informed her.  
  
"I'm sorry-"  
  
"Don't you dare apologise!"  
  
Tara smirked as she retorted, "I'm sorry for apologising." She swiftly changed the subject by announcing, "I'm going to cook the omelettes and then get out of these grimy clothes. Would you be so kind as to put plates on the desk-and find some napkins?"  
  
"I kidnap a vomen, and she starts civilising me," Siegfried mumbled, irritated. "Ze vorld must be going to ze devil."   
  
He plodded down the hall to the kitchen with Tara calling after him sweetly, "Thank You!"  
  
Once she was satisfied that he was pouting in the kitchen, she ran to find Starker. The thug was waiting impatiently by the exit. "What are you doing here?" she hissed.  
  
"All ze phone lines have been disconnected in zis building. I'll have to take ze car to ze gas station five miles avay."  
  
Much to Starker's glee, Tara gripped his arm in excitement. "Do you know what this means?"  
  
"Zat you finally zink I have some brains?"  
  
"No, it means I can escape to the petrol station!" She glanced around conspicuously before she continued, "Maybe I can sneak out right this minute-"  
  
"Fraulein King, I refuse to have you consort vith my goon!" Siegfried dashed towards them with his long strides. "Go make my food RIGHT NOW!"  
  
"You're not even going to say, 'please'?" Tara asked in mock astonishment. She addressed Starker with the meaningful comment, "Remember to take Luddy out for his five mile walk."  
  
The minion nodded his head dutifully, making Miss King confident enough to leave him to his own devices. She returned to the kitchen, cooked the omelettes, and retrieved her suitcase from the office. It had been lopsidedly tossed in there upon their arrival. Then she found a door with an unkempt sign that read, "Ladies' Room."   
  
In was in that dismal room where she changed into her last clean outfit, a short, silk dress with billowy sleeves and a low cut front. The colour of the gown was a turquoise that matched the shade of the Caribbean. Two white, vertical stripes ran down the front and the back, and a faux pearl necklace complimented the apparel. Tara's wig was damaged beyond restoration, but she managed to fluff it so it did not look as ridiculous.  
  
Certain she would not be laughed at for her looks, she exited the washroom. Tara raced to the office where Siegfried was already busy consuming his omelette. It was half gone, which did not leave much time for Starker to get to the petrol station, place his phone call, and hurry home. Resolved to distract the irascible German, Tara sat down and began the uncomfortable chore of trying to start a conversation.  
  
Meanwhile, Starker had arrived at the gas station and gone to the phone booth to place the call. Unfortunately, another man had been in the booth; thus the minion waited ten minutes for him to get off. As soon as the stranger stepped out of the booth, Starker scrambled to phone Steed.  
  
The Steeds were not at their flat yet, but Cathy Gale was. She had been sleeping dreamlessly on the red, leather sofa when the incessant ringing of the telephone jolted her awake. Nervously, she answered it, saying, "This is Mrs. Gale here."  
  
"Ah . . . uh, zis is Shtarker-you know zat man who is in love vith Tara?"  
  
Cathy did not know about which the incompetent man was babbling, but she replied, "What have you done with her, is she hurt-in danger?"  
  
The questions were sprung too quickly on the slow thug, but after what seemed an everlasting silence, he managed to answer them all. Then he cordially informed her what the violent Ludwig von Siegfried was planning. "Listen, I have to tell you zat Siegfried is madder zan he has ever been. He is going to try to trade Fraulein King for zose papers and Shmart again, but zis time he vill not play fair. He will harm you all, I shwear! You, don't listen to him vhen he calls, or you vill be sorry!"  
  
Dr. Gale listened incredulously, her mind speeding along at an insane rate. "Are you absolutely sure about this?"  
  
"I love Tara, unt her life and her friend's lives are in danger. I vould not lie about somezing like zis, even zough I am a hardened criminal."  
  
"Thank you, Herr Starker for your assistance in this matter. I assure that your help will lower your prison sentence."  
  
"Do you zink zey vill give me just zirty days?"  
  
"I think it will be little more than that."  
  
"How about twenty days off for goot behaviour?"  
  
"Mr. STARKER!" Cathy began in frustration. Slowly her temperament resumed its serenity, and she managed to say, "It would be in your best interest if you hung up the phone." In a flash, the irritating noise of the dial tone was piercing her eardrums. "At least he follows instructions obediently," she murmured.  
  
Mrs. Gale sighed pensively, stretched, yawned, and climbed upstairs to check on Katie. She was impatient to tell the Steeds and Smarts the alarming news.  
  
****************  
  
Tara King swallowed the last bit of her omelette, cursing herself for thinking Starker could handle such an imperative mission by himself. She wondered how much longer they could discuss machine guns and their purposes.  
  
"Vell, I zink zis dinner is just about over." Siegfried rose from his chair, his empty plate in his hands.  
  
"Wait, I was going to ask you what you could do about my clothes."  
  
Conrad surveyed her cagily before retorting, "Did you want me to make them look good on you? Sorry, but I think that's impossible."  
  
"Just because I'm not a beanpole like you doesn't mean I'm unattractive," Tara lashed out as she hopped to her feet.  
  
Siegfried chortled amusedly, replying, "You need to toughen up, Miss Priss and Prim."  
  
"I don't appreciate that insult."  
  
Siegfried's gaunt face was turning an unbecoming shade of scarlet mixed with purple. "If you don't vant to be treated so badly zen vhy do you vear such revealing clothes?" The dish was now clattering raucously on the wooden desk. "You're not my date, you're my captive!"  
  
"It may astonish you, but I don't own any prisoner's garb." Miss King yanked on her pearl necklace as if in defiance.  
  
"Unt vhat is vith zat shtupid hairdo? If I didn't know any better I'd say it vas a vig or rat's nest."  
  
"I happen to wear wigs as a fashion statement." Tara softened as she continued, "When I was eighteen, my boyfriend suggested that I should bleach my hair blonde in order to be more beautiful. In my naivety and stupidity, I eagerly complied and used peroxide so strong that it ruined my hair. Eventually it all fell out, leaving me insecure and humiliated. To add to my mortification, my boyfriend left me for a blonde bombshell."  
  
Tara closed her eyes, like she was reliving the degradation. "I resorted to wearing wigs to hide my blunder, and they soon became my trademark."  
  
"So vhat length is your hair now?" Siegfried seemed genuinely interested in her narrative.   
  
"It stops slightly below my shoulders, but I don't like it that way. I usually just pin it up, slip on a hairnet, and put on a wig." Gingerly touching her cropped wig, Tara discovered that it was filled with soot, grime and sweat.  
  
"Let me see your real hair!" Conrad ordered fervently.  
  
"Oh no, it's drab, listless. Besides," she added impishly, "I don't want you to get the funny notion that I need to be a blonde."  
  
"Tara, I von't laugh at you or your hair-I promise." For the first time, Siegfried's voice was cajoling and soothing.  
  
Tara felt herself grow taunt, her hands fastened to her head. Slowly, Conrad reached forward and gently removed her hands off her wig. Next he slid his fingers under her wig and hairnet, prying them off. His fingers were searching her scalp for hidden bobby pins, pulling them out one by one as they were found.  
  
Tara wondered how the same hands that had struck her and tortured her were now being so tender with her hair. Her nervousness washed away as her locks cascaded silently to her shoulder. She was breathing heavily, but she didn't mind. She felt goose bumps on her neck where his fingers had accidentally brushed.  
  
Finally, Conrad Siegfried stepped back to admire his handy-work. The bare bulb in the ceiling shone down on her head, creating a halo of light. Her big, blue eyes were staring questioningly at him and made her look even more ethereal. He scratched his chin as he remarked, "You know, in this light you almost look German."  
  
Tara knew Siegfried's statement was a rare compliment indeed.  
  
****************  
  
When Mr. Steed and Mrs. Peel returned to their flat, they were surprised to find Martin King and Cathy Gale waiting for them. The Smarts stumbled in after the Steeds but did not find anything unusual with Gale and King's presence.  
  
"What are you doing here this late?" Emma inquired.  
  
"Oh, I don't think we need to pry into their personal affairs," Steed said in an insinuating tone.  
  
Cathy rolled her eyes, silently counted to ten, and replied, "I asked Martin to come over after I received a phone call from Herr Starker. It appears Siegfried did not take too kindly to your joke and is plotting revenge. Starker warned me not to meddle in this affair any longer."  
  
"So we should just leave Tara for that jackal?" Steed cried in a state of unmitigated fury.  
  
"We really shouldn't discuss this difficult mission when we're all so tired," 99 pointed out.  
  
"You have a point, Mrs. Smart," Mrs. Peel admitted. "I suggest that Mrs. Gale and Dr. King return home, and the Smarts may spend the night here."  
  
Steed sputtered his protestations, but they were a futile cause. Emma Peel was determined to ignore her husband and treat the foreigners with respect.   
  
After Cathy and Martin left, the remaining spies settled down for a few hours of sleep.  
  
***************  
  
Starker huffed into the office. Siegfried turned his wrathful eyes on the innocent brute, yelling, "Shtarker, how many times have I told you not to interrupt?"  
  
Tara and Starker stared at him, utterly confounded. There had been nothing happening when he had entered, save Miss King and Herr Siegfried gazing tenderly at each other. "I'm sorry, boss, but I vanted to tell Tara zat ze dog has been valked."  
  
Tara King bolted at the information, smiled in acknowledgement, and gestured for the thug to leave. Then began collecting the plates and silverware. "I'll have Starker help me clean the dishes." She exited the room before Siegfried could protest or ask any questions.  
  
Once she was in the kitchen, she pronounced, "I'm going to escape tonight, but I will need your assistance."  
  
Starker was dejected at the prospect of her departure, but he nodded his head.  
  
"Here's the plan," Tara started . . .  
  
Later that evening, Miss King sneaked her shoes outside the door of the office. She then slipped back in and feigned a yawn.   
  
Siegfried looked up from his position at the desk. "Do you vant to go to bed?"  
  
"No, I'll just rest a while on the sofa, if you don't mind."  
  
Conrad removed a shining syringe from one of the drawers; he unconsciously played with it. When he noticed Tara's startled mien, he spoke, "Zis is in case you can't fall asleep on your own."  
  
"Thank you, but I'm not that dependent on drugs," she responded coolly.  
  
"You misinterpreted my meaning, you foolish girl!"  
  
Tara King did not answer but curled up on the couch, giving the allusion that she was trying to sleep. In ten minutes, she heard the lights click off, and felt the shadow of Siegfried standing over her. She wondered if he thought she was asleep, or if he wasn't fooled at all. She tried to keep her breathing relax and heavy, but she knew she was too agitated to do it effectively.  
  
When Tara thought she was going to scream from the tension, she heard the rustling of material as Siegfried removed his leather jacket. He draped it on her haphazardly-almost awkwardly. He proceeded to shuffle to the desk chair once again where he leaned back to repose.  
  
Tara waited for approximately twenty more minutes before she quietly rose to her feet. She edged to the shut door, but as she did, she felt a whirlwind of movement rush past her. Abruptly, the lights were turn on; obviously Siegfried had not been asleep.  
  
"Fraulein King, I vould have zought by now zat you vould give up the shtupid notion of escaping." Ludwig von Siegfried twirled a loaded gun around his pointer finger.  
  
"I can't help it that I'm a natural optimist." Tara shrugged as she accidentally backed into the desk. Her hands caught the edge of something cool and metal: the syringe. Casually, she gripped it before asking, "What are you going to do with me?"  
  
"I'm not sure yet, but I'll zink of something." Frowning despicably, he cocked the revolver.   
  
Tara brought fourth the syringe, but Siegfried was well prepared with the gun. He fired barely missing Tara King. She dove behind the wooden desk, still clutching the syringe with the strength of a muscular man. As she crouched behind it, Siegfried came around the corner with his gun. His legs were parallel with her arm, so she jabbed the needle into his flesh without any consideration.  
  
Siegfried's face was contorted with astonishment, anger, and defeat. He slowly hobbled to the sofa, where he sat down, his energy draining from him. The revolver was still riveted on Miss King, but she did not care. In a matter of seconds, he would be in a deep slumber.  
  
"I shvear I vill shoot if you move," he declared groggily. Weather it was intentional or not, he fired the gun at her.  
  
Tara sprang to her feet, barely missing the bullet. She was almost to the door when she heard Siegfried commanding her to stop. She raced out of the office and grabbed her shoes, never looking back. Unfortunately, that was her mistake.   
  
As she fled down the hall to her freedom, Siegfried stumbled to the doorway. Drunkenly, he waved the gun around before shooting.  
  
Tara felt an indescribable pain sear through her right leg. Before she could comprehend what was happening, her leg gave out from under her, and she tumbled to the cement floor. This hurt her maimed limb more, if it was at all humanly possible. Tara had experienced this acute pain before when she had been shot in the arm.**   
  
Siegfried, though drowsy, had managed to wound her before slumping to the ground asleep. Miss King tried to alleviate the seething in her left appendage by getting up, but a wave of dizziness and nauseas washed over her. A moment later, she was on the cement again, her body having succumbed to darkness.  
  
To Be Continued!  
  
Author's Note: In case you vere vondering, zis shtory vill end. You can depend upon it! :)  
  
**Note: Tara gets shot in my first fic, "Mother Knows Best." 


	10. Third Day

Third Day  
  
"Tara baby, please vake up!"  
  
Agent King forced open her eyes only to see Herr Starker hovering over her like a protective mother hen. "What's happened to me?" she croaked hoarsely.  
  
"You vere shot in ze leg, but I've bandaged it." Starker's voice was laden with patience and concern. "You've been unconscious for quite a while, mein liebling."  
  
Tara fought the impulse to cry at the thought that Siegfried had shot her. After being so considerate and gentle, he had put a bullet in her body for her troubles. She couldn't understand his incongruous behaviour. "Why did he fire that gun?" she bemoaned.  
  
"If it makes you feel any better, he could have killed you."  
  
"What are you talking about?" she demanded as she tried to sit upright. An inexpressible ache throbbed through her entire left leg.   
  
"I saw Siegfried aim ze gun at your head zen shlowly lower it to shoot your leg."  
  
Tara didn't know if she should be appreciative for this information or not. In a way it was satisfying to know he hadn't been able to murder her, but she also felt betrayed that he had injured her.  
  
"Tara, I vill drive you to ze gas station if you like," Starker spoke softly, implying he'd rather she'd stay, but that he was willing to so what she commanded. "Siegfried vill be sleeping for several more hours."  
  
Tara King felt tears of gratitude in her eyes, but she quickly swept them away. "If you could help me stand then we could leave immediately."  
  
The goon nodded obligingly as he practically lifted Tara to her feet. When Miss King accidentally applied pressure to her wounded limb, she gasped in pain and stumbled. Starker gingerly hefted her in his massive arms and carried her to the car. He entered the building again but reappeared a moment later with Luddy in his hands.  
  
"He vants to say goodbye," the simple man explained.  
  
Tara petted the German Shepherd on his scruffy head, kissed the downy fur on his neck, and murmured her farewells. The puppy whimpered pathetically, as if he sensed this was the last he'd ever see of the caring lady. "Please make sure he isn't turned into a killer," Tara implored the robust man in front of her.  
  
"I can't promise anyzing, but I vill try." Starker stepped into the Volkswagen, slammed the door shut, and drove the station.   
  
Once he had parked, Tara leaned forward to kiss his cheek. "Thank you for your kindness, Starker."  
  
In reply, the goon wrapped her in a strong bear hug. "I vill miss you, mein leibling, but I vill be happy at ze fact zat you're safe."   
  
"You mean you're not coming with me?" Tara asked, though she knew how stupid she must sound.   
  
"I vant to, but I realise zat if I come vith you, I vill be arrested."  
  
"Won't Siegfried kill you when he discovers that you aided me in my escape?"  
  
"It's a chance I'm willing to take." Starker added persuasively, "I'd rather die quickly zan rot in a jail cell."  
  
Miss King knew it was enough of a burden just to help her run away, so she decided not to convince him to come with her. She was quite aware of the imprisonment he would receive if he accompanied her. She emphatically nodded her head to show her compliance.  
  
Starker uncomplainingly lifted Tara out of the car and supported her as she limped inside the building. When she was standing as comfortably as she could in the phone booth, Starker unenthusiastically returned to the vehicle. It still pained him to leave the sweet and gentle woman.  
  
Tara automatically phoned Steed's flat, praying that someone would answer. After several persistent rings, John Steed's sleepy British accent came over the line. Moved at hearing him again, Miss King choked out the words, "Steed, this is Tara; I'm alive, and I want you to pick me up."  
  
"My God, I've been so worried about you!" Steed's husky voice cracked with emotions.  
  
Fatigued and filled with tumultuous feelings, Tara burst into tears. Steed didn't mind; the sobs were the sweetest music to him. His girl was finally coming home.  
  
************  
  
Emma Peel paced impatiently as she waited for her husband to arrive with Miss King. She stopped as an imperceptible sound came from the hallway outside the apartment. She dragged open the front door to admit Steed and King. "Welcome back, my dear Tara," she exclaimed cheerfully.   
  
Tara nearly fell into the room, a result of her injured leg. "I'd thought I'd never see this place again." Her eyes scanned the flat, soaking in all the little details. "I thought Mrs. Gale would be here when I arrived."  
  
"Cathy had to take the secret dossiers to the Prime Minister. They were a day overdue, and H was not too pleased with the delay, nor was Parliament." Emma ushered the young agent to the red couch.  
  
"I think this calls for a drink!" Steed proclaimed readily.  
  
"We were just preparing some for us all," a high, feminine voice announced. Mrs. Smart and her husband walked in from the kitchen holding trays of an alcoholic mixture.  
  
"Is it brandy, sherry, or whiskey?" Steed asked expectantly.  
  
"The drink has all three with a bit of tomato juice and a slice of lemon," Max replied proudly.  
  
"Oh Max, don't tell me you sneaked all that in when I was slicing the lemon!" 99 groaned.   
  
With a rush of wind, everyone, minus Tara, headed to the Steeds' personal bar, leaving Mr. Smart with his own concoctions. They were casually sipping their respective drinks when the foreboding chime of the telephone interrupted them. All heads turned in the object's direction, and for one minute, no one spoke.  
  
As if in slow motion, Steed strode to the phone and said, "Hello, Steed here, John Steed."  
  
"Mr. Shteed," the distinctive voice of Ludwig von Siegfried snarled, "you have several zings of mine zat I vant badly."  
  
"Neither Miss King, nor the dossiers are yours, and don't you be forgetting it!  
Steed snapped.  
  
Emma attentively observed Tara, whose face had grown ashen, except for two splotches of vermilion on her cheeks.  
  
"So you admit zat Tara is vith you and wasn't murdered and thrown into the swamp as my thug claims?"  
  
"Herr Starker really needs to stay off the beer," Steed remarked sarcastically.  
  
Conrad sagely ignored the accusation. "I suggest ve have a peaceful negotiation vithout veapons. Come to my hideout, and if you bring ze police, I vill blow all your brains out!"  
  
"I wouldn't even dream of getting the police involved in a kidnapping and molestation case!" Steed cried in the same caustic manner.  
  
Miss King looked ready to protest about such strong words, but she remained quiet-too quiet, Emma remarked to herself. Every muscle was rigid, except her left leg, which was resting comfortably on the leather sofa. Was Tara stiff with resentment, trepidation, or a mixture of both?  
  
Conrad Siegfried finished the conversation with the order, "Come at seven o'clock tonight vith Shmart and whoever else-but Shmart must be present." He did not wait for another cheeky retort but slammed the phone back in its cradle.  
  
Steed relayed all the dialogue to his guests and wife.  
  
"We don't have the papers; the Prime Minister does!" Emma interjected.  
  
"We'll just have to bluff our way through it all," Maxwell declared.  
  
"You're not seriously considering bargaining with him weaponless?" Tara enquired skeptically.  
  
"Don't worry, I'll have my pistol with me," Mrs. Smart assured her.  
  
"Then we've decided to parley with this monster?" Steed questioned the congregation.  
  
The throng of spies nodded their heads in agreement and determination. "Are you certain you want to come even with your injury?" Mrs. Steed queried Tara.  
  
Agent King hesitated a moment before she vigorously answered, "I wouldn't miss it for the world." In her mind and soul, she wondered what exactly she hoped to accomplish by facing her nemesis.   
  
Max broke up her contemplation by nearly shouting, "We'll catch those German jerks if it's the last thing we do!" Everyone wondered if his words were an omen of deadly things.  
  
"You all are aware that we will be in mortal danger every moment," Steed gravely began.  
  
"And . . . loving it!" Smart pronounced in a facetious tone.  
  
"No seriously, we either conquer Siegfried, or he conquers us," Steed finished.  
  
The idea sobered the agents instantly, but they were still determined to embark on the seemingly suicidal crusade against the forces of evil and nastiness.  
  
When Mrs. Gale returned to the Steeds' from her triumphant meeting with the officials, she was informed of the situation and asked to watch Katie once again. She readily accepted the invitation, so the agents turned to the imperative choice of what to wear for their meeting with the opposition.   
  
They decided that they would camouflage much more efficiently if they were attired in black. If Siegfried resolved to pull a gun on them, they would be harder to spot in the twilight, thus making it harder to aim and fire. After a nervous supper, where no one ate much, the spies either assembled in Mrs. Peel's Lotus or Steed's Rolls Royce.  
  
It took nearly an hour and many wrong turns to find Siegfried's hideaway. When they at last arrived at the dilapidated warehouse, it was fifteen minutes after seven. Tara, Steed, Emma, Max and Agent 99 slowly emerged from either vehicle. There in the luminous light from the waning moon and several porch lamps were Conrad Siegfried and his ever-faithful goon, Starker. Advancing toward the two Germans, each realised that this could very well be the end of their spying careers and/or lives.  
  
"So we meet again, Shmart," Siegfried sneered in his usual evil way.  
  
"You alvays say zat," proclaimed Starker unnecessarily. An angry look from his boss shut his flippant mouth immediately.  
  
"It's nice to see you too, Ziegfried," responded the unfazed Agent 86.  
  
"And Miss King, you just can't get enough of me," Siegfried crowed pompously.  
  
"Don't flatter yourself, or you might find yourself at a disadvantage," Tara warned him, unfazed at his insinuative comment.  
  
"Let's skip the small talk and get right to the point," suggested Steed. "You want the papers, and we want to see you behind bars."  
  
"It doesn't seem a very fair trade for either of us," Conrad mused diplomatically.  
  
"I don't know; Ziegfried in exchange for some measly papers seems incredibly fair to me," Smart piped up. After receiving none too subtle glares from five pairs of eyes, Max became soundless, a rare trait in the ridiculous American.  
  
"If you promise to give me zose secret dossiers, I shvear I vill let you leave alive." Siegfried began to the dubious crowd, "except for Shmart. I vill kill him no matter vhat you do."  
  
"What if we don't give you the files?" Mrs. Emma Steed asked.  
  
"Zen I vill murder you all, or rather, Shtarker vill." Conrad gesticulated to his goon, who immediately retrieved a revolver from his jacket.  
  
"You said we were to negotiate without weapons!" Maxwell complained.  
  
"Tough cookies, Shmart," the gleeful German disparaged.   
  
99 reached for the gun in her purse, but Siegfried shouted, "Remove all veapons from your persons, or face instant deaz." The command was immediately followed through. "Now vill you cooperate or not?"  
  
"Is this a trick question?" enquired Smart.  
  
"Please give us a few minutes to decide," 99 entreated, giving her most pitiful expression with her blue eyes.  
  
Siegfried reluctantly acquiesced, and the five agents huddled together to have their discussion. "We can't give in to him, but we certainly don't want to die!" exclaimed Mrs. Smart.  
  
"You said that we were either going to conquer Siegfried, or he would win over us!" Emma reminded the flustered woman.  
  
After this fact had settled in his mind, John Steed remarked grimly, "I hate to admit it, but I'm afraid we've come to the end of our rope."   
  
"This will be a noble way to die," added Emma, trying to hold back the tears that were forming in her brown eyes. "Cathy will make a wonderful surrogate mother for our baby."  
  
Tara shook her head before ejaculating, "I refuse to admit defeat this early in my profession! I escaped from the clutches of this-" the words "heartless man" were on her lips, but at that moment an idea formed in her head. "I think I've devised a plan to get us out of this jam, but it might not work! If anyone else has an idea, speak now, or I will go through with mine."  
  
Miss King's four companions solemnly shook their heads. "Don't move a muscle, but let me handle this," Tara whispered. "It's all my fault we're in this predicament anyway."  
  
"I won't have you taking the blame for this sinister plot," Mrs. Smart consoled her.  
  
"Have you reached a decision yet, you cowardly CONTROL agents and appalling Avengers?" shrieked Ludwig von Siegfried.  
  
"Yes, we have, and our answer is no." Miss Tara serenely informed him.  
  
"Zen you vill all have to die, and zen I vill take ze papers. You are more foolish zen I zought possible. Shtarker, shoot zem all NOW!"  
  
Tara took as steady steps as she could with her injury, her black boots shining in the dim light coming from the lamps and moon. She aligned herself with the revolver, treading closer to Herr Starker. "Go ahead and kill me first, Starker."  
  
Gazing at the woman he idolised, Starker wavered for a brief duration. In this time, Tara was able to reach the bulky man and place her slender hands on the weapon he was shakily holding. "You do remember how to fire a weapon, don't you?" she asked coyly.  
  
"You are a stupid, impudent girl!" Siegfried yelled irately, but fear was mingled in his voice.  
  
"If you murder me, nothing will stop you from disposing of my friends," Tara said in such a tranquil tone it infuriated Conrad and perplexed Starker.  
  
Starker's mouth began to quiver as he exchanged glances between Siegfried, Tara, Siegfried, and then back to Tara. "I can't kill you, mein lieb, and I can't shoot your friends either!"  
  
Tara fingered his gun before pulling it from his weak grasp. She hurried back to her astounded associates and gave Steed the weapon.   
  
"Tara, you still have me to deal vith!" Siegfried produced his automatic pistol from his leather jacket and aimed it at Miss King's back.  
  
To Be Continued! 


	11. Conclusion and Tag

Conclusion   
  
Tara faltered for a moment before turning to face her adversary. She had discovered that he was a good aim, so there was no doubt he could kill her at that very instant. However, he had had the opportunity yesterday, yet had not taken it. She collectively limped across the gravel to the villain, her eyes interlocked with his.   
  
She saw Conrad's face turn pale as she drew nearer, but he did not pull the trigger. Instead, he gripped it tighter if it were humanly possible, his knuckles turning as blanche as his countenance.  
  
Tara's distressed, black leather jacket crinkled with each movement as did her black turtleneck and culottes. She couldn't step any closer to Siegfried, or her large bosom would collide with his chest. Slowly she laid a hand on his pistol in the same manner as with Starker a few minutes ago. She felt a wave of dizziness wash over her as she put the gun to her heart. Her free hand caressed Siegfried's free one and she placed it on the weapon.  
  
She was challenging Siegfried in her irritating way. She was giving him permission to murder her in cold blood, taking for granted that he wouldn't, but he would show her! He would not let her live this time; he would not give in to his emotional and pitying side. Conrad pursed his lips together, intent on pulling the trigger, but something checked him.   
  
Tara King was standing complacently with her full lips formed in a half smile and her light blue eyes challenging him. How dare she have the nerve to bewitch him with those large, beautiful eyes!  
  
"There isn't anybody to stop you from shooting me, not even Steed with his gun," Tara whispered in her intoxicating voice. She stared at him, he at her, and for a moment no one dared breathe.   
  
Steed, Emma, 99 and Max gazed at Miss King in horrified fascination. "I can't hear what she is saying," whined Maxwell to his wife. 99 hushed him then laid a soothing arm on his shoulder to show she was not annoyed with him.  
  
Tara's heart must have been palpitating at twice the normal speed, but if she had been omniscient she would have realised that so was Siegfried's. For the fist time in his life, he faced an urgent dilemma, one that couldn't be easily solved by murder. As he stared at Tara's beguiling face, the sweat began to pour from his.  
  
Suddenly, in a convulsed voice Conrad Siegfried muttered, "Curse you, Tara King, curse you again!" The pistol fell from his clasp, clattering onto the ground. "I don't know vy, but I can't kill you-I never could. You are a very frustrating voman!"  
  
"Am I aggravating because I trust in you so much?" Tara asked coolly. She bent over to pick up the pistol, and Siegfried took this opportune moment to flee into the night.  
  
"Don't just stand there gaping; shoot him before he gets away!" Max commanded desperately.  
  
Steed pointed his gun at Siegfried, but Tara shouted, "DON'T YOU DARE HURT HIM!" Confusedly, Mr. Steed lowered the gun, exchanging glances between the other spies.  
  
Tara held his automatic pistol in her hand, gazing at the receding figure of Ludwig von Siegfried. Once or twice, the tall German glanced back, but then he trekked on into the darkness. Miss King sighed deeply before walking over to her stupefied companions.  
  
"You could've killed him, and you did nothing!" screeched Mr. Smart. "I've never had such an advantage, but you had it and wasted it and also prevented Steed from using his weapon!"  
  
"Max, your complaining is not going to accomplish anything either," Mrs. Smart reminded him.  
  
"Why did you let him escape, Tara?" Emma Steed questioned her gently.  
  
"I couldn't harm him, not after he spared my life three times. Don't ask me why, but I couldn't pull the trigger." Miss King let the arm that was holding the pistol drop to her side.  
  
"Your job as a spy is to kill those enemies who attempt to get away!" protested Steed.  
  
"If I'd shot Siegfried I'd be no better then he. We are supposed to be the lawful citizens, the people everyone looks up to. How can a child have us for role models if we go around shooting people all the time?"  
  
"So are you now going to condone criminals and murderers?" Smart asked vehemently.  
  
"No, that's not what I'm saying. What I'm trying to tell you is that I couldn't slay Conra-Siegfried. He wasn't just another villain like the millions I met before with no feelings and conscience. He wasn't on our side by any means, but there was a part of him that was good, albeit a small percentage."  
  
"But he kidnapped and tortured you, Tara!" John Steed cried. He wondered what madness had possessed his former pupil.   
  
"I know, but for some inexplicable reason I managed to forgive him. It wasn't the treacherous, murderous Siegfried that I saw running away just now, but the gentle Siegfried who fed me, laughed with me, and confided in me." The phrase, "and kiss me," was on her tongue, but she managed to hold it back. Tara King turned a crimsoned face away from her flabbergasted peers as she concluded, "You couldn't possibly understand me."  
  
There was a moment of discomfiting silence, and then Mrs. Emma Steed spoke. "I always felt that you were the most compassionate of us Avengers, and now I know for certain I was right. Most people preach about loving their enemies, but few practice it in real life. You are one of those few who have learned how to love anyone no matter what grave felony he or she has committed against you." Emma stepped up to the young woman in order to give her trembling hand a reassuring squeeze. "I am proud to have you as my friend and partner in crime fighting."  
  
Tara felt a lump rise in her throat as she listened to Mrs. Steed's discourse. She had finally won respect and regard from the woman whom Steed loved the most. It was an overwhelming experience, one that would not be forgotten.  
  
To add to Tara King's ecstasy, Steed came to stand on her other side. He still did fully comprehend what had happened to his little girl. True, he now knew she was a mature young woman, but he was still confused as to what had happened to the spy who had worshipped the ground he walked on. Nevertheless he and his two female companions trotted lithely back to the two cars.   
  
Not grasping what had just occurred between Emma and Tara, the bewildered Smarts quickly followed with Starker in their custody.   
  
Steed started his auto, his headlights glaring brightly on the distant figure of Siegfried. Tara gazed one last time at the German's silhouette before entering Emma's Lotus with a reluctant Starker.   
  
"Funny, I wonder why I couldn't stop him," she murmured to herself. "I wonder . . ." She shook her head, as if awakening herself from a reverie.  
  
Far up on a steep hill, Conrad Siegfried, agent extraordinaire, stared fondly one last time at Miss King. Then he disappeared over the mound, his shadow mingling with the heavy darkness.  
  
Tag  
  
"I give you a toast to the future Mr. and Mrs. Martin King!" Steed announced in his debonair voice as he lifted a champagne glass high in the air. "May they live long and healthy in Africa, and may they help many people!"  
  
"Cheers!" Emma, Tara, Cathy, Martin, Max and 99 chorused in unison. The merry group clinked their glasses before sipping their liquids. Emma and 99, both breastfeeding their babies, were the only two who didn't drink alcohol. They had alcohol-free spumante, which served as an adequate substitute.   
  
The seven secret agents were congregated in Miss King's flat to have the long awaited fete for Cathy and Martin. It was decided they should celebrate at Tara's apartment after the Smarts arrived, making the party larger. The Steeds home was not spacious enough to hold that many people.  
  
"When are you leaving for Africa?" Mrs. Smart queried the bubbling pair of lovebirds.  
  
"Most of our clothing is already at our new house, but we and our furniture don't move until the fifteenth of the month," Mrs. Gale responded.  
  
"I've always wanted to go on an African Safari," Maxwell Smart said dreamily.  
  
"You must come and visit us some time, Mr. Smart," Martin King graciously offered.  
  
"It will have to be after the twins are a little older, though," 99 remarked sagaciously.  
  
"I'm glad we could finally have this party." Tara exhaled slowly as she slumped onto her sofa.  
  
"Speaking of which, I think this celebration is officially over!" Steed finished off his third glass of champers with a satisfactory sigh.   
  
"Yes, the last couple hours have been wonderful, but it's time we returned to the hotel," Agent 99 said. "We have an early plane to catch tomorrow morning."  
  
"Why do we have to leave when I just got accustomed to all this rain?" Max asked despondently.  
  
"If you happen to come to England again, we'll be more than pleased to visit with you," Emma Peel told them earnestly. Katie giggled her agreement much to the amusement of all.  
  
Emma's husband gave her a withering look that clearly indicated he never wanted to see Maxwell Smart again. Steed set his glass down on the table and noticed an anonymous letter addressed to Tara. "Do you have a secret admirer, you sly creature?"  
  
"It's probably from my single neighbour," Tara replied flippantly. "He's been extremely persistent about asking me on a date ever since he discovered you were married, Steed." After this remark, the three couples found it best to bid their adieus to Miss King.   
  
Once certain she was alone, Tara King ripped opened the envelope from her "secret admirer." To her relative surprise, she found it was from Conrad von Siegfried and went as follows:  
  
Dear Fraulein King--Tara,  
  
I don't usually write letters, especially personal, friendly ones, so bear with me. I am reluctant to say that I met my match in the form of you. Can you believe that a woman-a twenty-three-year-old-beat me at my game? Well, I hope you are pleased with yourself, cutie, because it took me a whole lot of gumption to write that last sentence.  
  
I just wanted to tell you that I will be out of the country until this whole case cools off. By the time you get this letter I will be on some tropical island, basking in the sunlight.   
  
The two hideouts where I kept you as my captive have been burned to the ground, eliminating all the evidence. You might think you have the upper hand on me since Starker is in prison and you have my weapons in your possession, but remember this: Starker can only talk, not prove anything, and those guns have so many fingerprints on it, I highly doubt you can find mine.   
  
Am I cheeky? Definitely. Do I care? No.  
  
So I leave you with this thought: You are one stubborn woman! I still think you have some German blood in you.   
  
Conrad Siegfried  
  
Underneath was a postscript that made Tara smile as she read it. In her joviality, the letter fluttered from her hands onto the floor. Her antique lamp caught the last sentence, which went as follows:  
  
P.S. You haven't seen the last of me--Girly. 


End file.
